


Life Only Gives You One

by KingpinCobblepot (Theonlylucysaxon)



Series: Not Everyone Has a Cobblepot [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Characters added as mentiomed or featured, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Main story about the murder boys, Minorrr inclusions tagged same as any, Part of a new collection, Rated for Future Content, This will be of season 1-ish, adorable season 1 Edward, because Ed kills a man, because... I mean you've presumably watched season 1, part of a series, series au, slowburn, updated warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonlylucysaxon/pseuds/KingpinCobblepot
Summary: An AU in which Edward's romantic interest in the start of the show is Oswald Cobblepot, the employee of Fish Mooney who works in her club where many cops go after hours and where Ed goes to admire his crush.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My friend when watching Mommy's Little Monster: "Imagine if Oswald had been Kristen, and Ed said he murdered Tom for him. He'd be so grateful." 
> 
> And here we are. This will be a possibly lengthy AU that literally examines the idea of Oswald taking Kristen Kringles story arc in seasons 1 & 2\. I hope you enjoy <3

Edward Nygma had never been in love before. 

Well, okay that isn’t wholly true. He had thought he loved a girl when he was in highschool. She was beautiful and smelled like strawberries. Edward had thought he loved her and what’s more Edward had thought she loved him after a widely misjudged act of kindness. He had asked her out only to be laughed at-- like right in his face. In front of everyone. And then she called him a creep. 

Whatever insults came next, the teenage Edward Nashton hadn’t waited to hear. He just ran away with tears stinging his eyes and a full determination to never be laughed at again.

All these years later, and not much had changed. He was still a laughing stock to most people. His job as a forensics assistant at the GCPD was decent at best, not nearly as challenging as he would prefer but now and again it provided just enough mental stimulation allow him the chance to truly enjoy his work. Gotham was at least a more complex city than most, and the crimes here were interesting to say the least. And when he could, he avoided the riff raff that had come to be employed as officers. Well, for the most part. There was one thing which Edward Nygma went out of his way to do and which put him at rather innate risk in terms of being further bullied by his perpetual tormentors turned work colleagues. 

This was visiting Fish’s club after work-- a favored watering hole of the more corrupt officers, and more often than not the sight of some manner of insult or verbal jab from the men firing in Ed’s direction. So why did Ed go every single week night? He didn’t do it for the drinks because for a major percentage of his time he rarely had more than a glass of wine. He also didn’t do it for the other patrons because to be frank, they were all either vulgar morons or generally too dull to be noticed. The entertainment was decent, but hardly worth enduring the criticisms of so many immature and idiotic ape like officers. No, there was nothing in any of this which made Ed want to be there.

No, but Ed had a reason. 

The best reason. 

Oswald Cobblepot was the most amazing person Ed had ever seen. He was employed for the known crime boss Fish Mooney-- and Edward had seen him do everything from rubbing Miss Mooney’s feet to carrying her umbrella. He had seen him be degraded, insulted even by the tasks he was given, but Oswald never flinched. Oswald was stronger than that. He was… Amazing. It had happened when Ed was first hired at the GCPD that he came to this bar after a day at work and hoped to maybe find comradery with his fellow employees. Well, that was the hope. For certain. Instead he found… Well, contempt. But he also found Oswald. 

The bartender that night must have been ill-- it was only on such occasions that Oswald stepped behind the bar as Ed would later discover from his meticulous observations of the man. Ed had known instantly from the moment he saw him. He was in love. He had these… Striking features. A sharp, angled face with the most intensely soft eyes. He was utterly smitten already but just to make matters worse, when asked for his order as he stood dumbfounded at the bar, Ed finally mustered out his order. 

“Born in captivity, I need to breathe but am not alive. I can be old or young, but I cannot die….” He smiled in what he hoped was as charming an expression as it had been in his imagination. 

“Are you… Are you asking me a riddle?” Oswald frowned at him from the other side of the bar. 

“Do you like riddles?” Ed asked, soundly breathlessly enthusiastic that Oswald could sincerely be perfect for him. 

“No.” He shook his head with a simple frown and Ed’s expression faltered only a little as he muttered a soft ‘oh’ sound of a sigh, only to perk right back up when Oswald added. “But I’ll get you that wine. Red or white?” The shorter man was moving to turn back towards the booze and Ed wondered if he could feel the taller man boring eyes into the back of his head. 

He was perfect. 

So no, Edward had never been in love before. But he was in love now, and after years of watching Oswald from afar, he had decided to finally make his move. He sat at the end of the bar, his favorite hunter green sweater on and his eyes so full of optimism. He had left a note and flowers there earlier in the evening addressed to Oswald. He had bribed an employee to let him in during his lunch break, and had to rush to get it here but he wanted to be sure that Oswald had time to admire the gift before he would be there that evening. 

When Oswald wasn’t tending the bar, he was doing rounds within the club. Checking on customers, keeping the peace. Most nights, Ed just watched him as he navigated the room and hoped for a little chance here and there to offer him some riddle or a brain teaser. Something so he knew Oswald would feel challenged by him. He seemed like such a clever man. It thrilled him to consider how perhaps he realized just how clever Ed was as well. How well they suited one another. He chewed his lip tonight as Oswald didn’t seem to be in sight. Perhaps the gift had been too much. Maybe he was being too forceful. Maybe…. Maybe Oswald didn’t share his feelings. Maybe he was avoiding coming in because he knew Ed would be there. Maybe…

Before his mind could race any further, his thoughts were interrupted by Arnold Flass and his lackeys coming in from the back room of the establishment. They came here a lot. Flass and Oswald had been well… A relationship seemed too sophisticated a word to describe what Flass would be capable of. No. Edward refused to dignify that idea with such a word. He and Oswald would have a relationship-- from what he could tell, Flass and Oswald just had… Sex? Corrupt deals? A business arrangement? Whatever it was, Edward knew Flass didn’t deserve the criminal, and that whatever benefit Oswald got from keeping an officer under his thumb and wrapped around his little finger was absolutely something Ed could offer him as well. But it would be better. He would actually be intellectually.. Romantically… Utterly suited for Oswald. If only the other man could see it. If only his gift had made that clear. 

He was about to look away from the jeering ape-ish clan of officers, rolling his eyes and getting back to sipping his glass of water. But then, he noticed in among them-- no, rather chasing after them with his limp and all was the man in question. Oswald seemed upset as he chased Flass… And Flass.. He had something of Oswalds?

“Give it back, Arnold. That isn’t funny!”

“Oh come on, Pengy. Give it a rest. I know. I’m an asshole. But this is comedy gold.” He chucked, showing all his far too many teeth and waved the item in the air. 

Oh dear.

Oh….

Oh NO.

It was his card. The one he spent hours thinking of and deciding just what to say-- and writing and rewriting to get his handwriting as neat as possible. The one he left with the highly elaborate and delicately arranged flowers, all in a neat package to reveal his feelings for Oswald. This had been his big gesture and Flass… Flass had the note. Edward felt his stomach drop and he stood, to try and leave as discreetly as possible only to be spotted by one of the men who counted himself a friend to the officer currently mocking Ed’s deep and sincere sentiments. 

“Hey, man-- LOOK! It’s the poet himself.” He shouted and slapped Flass on the back as he pointed to Ed who ducked his head and felt anger and humiliation rising inside him in equal measure. 

“Oh, NYGMA! Hey! I was hoping to catch your pervy ass here.” Flass called with a grin and suddenly wrapped a tight arm around Oswald’s shoulders just to make things all that much worse. “Tell me, were you born a creep or did something happen to make you into this?” He accused with a sickening smirk.

“That’s enough. Leave him alone.” Oswald insisted, looking up at him with a frown. But the far taller, bigger, more muscular officer just kissed his cheek with another laugh.

“Don’t be so uptight Pengy. I’m just being honest with the guy…. I like his work here.” He held up the card and his voice only got louder so the few other patrons who had only passingly noticed the confrontation now turned to give their full attention to only make Ed that much more embarrassed. 

__ "Dear Mister Cobblepot,   
Your eyes are as green as a meadow.   
Your smile is as bright as the sun.   
Your skin is as white as a snowflake.   
It seems like your life is fun."

“What a creep!” He roared into laughter and the rest of the club began to join, either by snickering or outright mocking chuckles. This was enough for Oswald who as Arnold was distracted with his laughter, snatched the card away and stormed off. Not that Ed saw this. He couldn’t see much of anything. His vision was clouded with tears and he couldn’t run out of the club with their gang blocking the exit and clearly intent on humiliating him as much as possible. For a moment he had been glued in place by the shock and anger and hurt of it all. Yes, hurt. It hurt everywhere. Like he was being strangled by his own emotion and could hardly bare to feel how betrayed he felt by the fact his private feelings had just been broadcast. 

Finally, he managed the courage to dash into the very nearby bathroom. 

He slumped in one of the stalls, his head in his hands. 

This was a disaster. He had thought-- he had really hoped Oswald would appreciate it. Would appreciate all of it. Flass never brought him flowers. Flass never even used three syllable words. He didn’t deserve someone as beautiful and intelligent and bold as Oswald. No. He… He didn’t deserve anyone at all! He should be in a bathroom alone and crying. Not Ed. Ed should be the one kissing Oswald’s cheek and mocking the clumsy attempts of others to woo him. He should have him. Oswald should be his. Oswald should be--

The door opened and Ed tried to steady his emotions as he braced himself for the fact Flass may well have followed him. He dashed hands over his eyes to try and force away the tears. This was all so wrong and unfair and the forensic scientist felt helpless-- and that made him just so angry. Being helpless. Being at the mercy of someone bigger and stronger. It was too reminiscent of a childhood he would rather forget, but as he was ready for the cruel mocking tone of the officer, instead came a different sort of voice entirely. 

“E-Ed? Are you in here?” Oswald called tentatively as he walked past the empty stalls. “Ed, look I… I didn’t give Arnold the note. He just took it. He’s got a pretty cruel sense of humor….” Not that Oswald would admit to appreciating that most of the time. It was just this time with Ed that the criminal felt oddly guilty. “Look, Ed… I thought it was sweet. And you left me those lilies. How did you know they were my favorite?” He asked softly, curiously, now standing exactly on the either side of the door. Ed remained silent, unsure what to say. 

What could he say?

That he had spent so much time watching Oswald, listening to him… That Oswald once mentioned to a customer just to Ed’s left who complimented a flower arrangement on one of the tables, that he liked the lilies because they are his mother’s favorite and whenever he saw them he always thinks of her. That on another occasion, he mentioned to his boss when she commented on the lily he wore tucked against his coat lapel that lilies symbolize devotion. 

How could he admit to knowing from all the secret observations when Flass already clearly was pointy out how creepy Ed could be? And he didn’t mean it. He really never meant to be. It’s just… The only way he knew how to be. Around people. Around anyone. He got so anxious at the idea of being stupid, or weird, or awkward which he seemed to always be socially without meaning to. And so much of the time with Oswald he avoided that by just not engaging with him… But Ed wouldn’t allow that to keep him from getting to know Oswald. How could he resist? How could he… How could he do anything differently? 

His silence was enough of a push for Oswald to seem to believe he was unwanted. His shiny black shoes disappeared from where they had been peeking just under the stall door. 

“Okay, Ed. I’ll… I’ll leave you alone. I am sorry though. It was a lovely gesture. I appreciated it.” 

Ed wanted to scream no. He wanted to burst from the stall and pull Oswald against him and ask him not to ever feel unwelcome around him. His very presence gave Ed so much joy. It radiated from Oswald and like the sun, Ed just wanted to bask in his smile. Ed wants to stop him from leaving but he can’t seem to remember how to do much more than sit here like an idiot. So sit he does. Silent. Just huddled in the stall, feeling like an idiot. All his emotion wells into his chest and he still swallows it down. 

This wasn’t the end of things. 

He had heard Oswald say he appreciated it. It was lovely. Oswald thought something Ed did was lovely, and he had even criticised his current lover when complimenting Edward and apologizing for how cruel Flass was. Oswald liked him. 

He had to. 

And that was enough hope for Edward to not yet be prepared to give up on his pursuit of the object of his affections. Even if it had to continue to be from a distance. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ed practices being smooth by being awkward as hell first.

“Oswald….” Ed began as he stood in his lab, working on examining teeth collected from the scene of a murder. He was hunched over, trying to focus, but likewise decided to try and maybe figure out what he’d say tonight. He had quite a lucky break in the months since the letter incident. Flass had been arrested for running a drug cartel, and it left Oswald in the very fortunate position of being single. Atop this, Fish Mooney had vanished from town, and as of late the so called “Penguin”, AKA Oswald, had taken over running her club in some profound and presumably brilliant coup which only sparked Ed’s curiosity and admiration all the more for Oswald. Besides which, Ed’s job had begun to actually be somewhat more enjoyable since the moron of an medical examiner was replaced with the much more amenable and kind Dr. Leslie Thompkins. Everything was so perfect. Now all that was left was for Ed to do it. To ask him to dinner. He.. He was sure he could do it. 

“Mr. Cobblepot…. No, Oswald… No…. Mr. Cobblepot--” He huffed, trapped between respectful formality and warm familiarity, and so he decided it best to skip that all together. He’d decide in the moment what he should call him. 

“I--” He cleared his throat and straightened his back as he stared down at the scattered human teeth and dental scans on the table in front of him. “I’ve noticed some time ago that you are-- Rather an exceptional person. Handsome… No. Any moron can see that much…. No… He’s….” He drew a deep breath. “I’ve noticed some time ago similarities between us, certain synchronicities… And I have to admit I’ve been interested in you for a long time. Now with Officer Flass-- Arnold Flass-- No, don’t mention him at all. He doesn’t matter.” Ed grumbled to himself. “Now that you seem to find yourself single, I was wondering if I might have the honor of escorting you to dinner one evening-- this evening-- one evening….” He frowned and then nodded. “This evening sounds to pushy, and he probably will have plans on such short notice… But one evening sounds too vague. Like I’m not interested in the endeavor at all... Tomorrow evening?” He smiled. From the top. “Mr. Cobblepot, I’ve noticed some time ago some similarities between you and I… And since then, I must admit I’ve been interested in you. Now that you find yourself single, I was wondering if I might have the honor of escorting you out to dinner tomorrow evening.” He smiled down at the table, his hair falling over his forehead at this angle and shading his eyes beneath his glasses. He was so very pleased with himself. This would work. He knew it would. 

“You don’t have to say you’ve noticed similarities.” Came a voice of a rather unwelcome intruder in this moment. Ed turned back to catch Detective Gordon’s eyes. “No one needs rationalizations for why you’re interested.” He continued to offer the unsolicited advice and Ed fought the blush on his cheeks. 

“O-Oh d-detective Gordon… I… I-- Umm….” 

“Oswald Cobblepot. I can’t pretend to understand what you see in him, but you deserve to be happy, Ed.” He forces a smile as he looks at Edward and the forensics specialist can almost convince himself Jim is sincere. And is his friend. And wants his happiness. 

_ Almost. _

But he also insulted Oswald, and that comes first and foremost to Ed who straightens almost defensively. “For your information, detective… He’s a very special kind of person. He’s strong and clever and he’s… He’s an individual in a sea of morons and imbeciles in this city….” His tone had trailed off to sounding disappointed by the rest of the city, a step back from his defensiveness which wasn’t all gone but had faded ever so slightly as it gave way to consideration. “You just don’t know him very well.” He added, looking back to his work and away from Gordon.

“He’s a criminal, Ed. There isn’t much more to know.” Jim said simply and sighed. “I came for an update on that case with the teeth-- Kristen Kringle down in the annex said you pulled old files of dental records or something… I have a feeling you have some form of a hunch.” 

Ed let that be the end of the Oswald talk and proceeded to give Jim details of his brilliant notion of checking these teeth against the records of bite marks found on victims. He found six in the last two years. Consistent with the bite marks found on the victim in this case. Ed proceeded to talk Jim through his plans and thought process in tracing the victims dental records-- since the crimes seemed teeth related with all the biting. And then cross referencing dental exams of past Arkham inmates to try and find if any matched the specific teeth they had collected-- most of which were fillings and one of which had a cavity. This narrowed it down to one sociopathic man who was evaluated for release six months ago after voluntarily committing himself. He gave Jim all the information and sent the detective on his way, receiving nothing more than a “thanks, Ed” for all his trouble. Not that he minded too much in this moment. He was mostly just glad Jim had left. 

He normally didn’t mind the detective, who was generally quite nice. But Ed needed to practice his speech. Again and again and as many times as it took to get it right. Oswald would say yes to him. He would get his date. He just… Needed to get this speech down. 

And maybe…

Maybe Jim was right about dropping that part…

\---

 

Edward headed to the club that afternoon in his tweed jacket over an olive tie and a white shirt that as speckled with green spots. He felt he looked rather dashing, and even went to the trouble of adding a bit of extra product to his hair to make it lay nice and flat against his head. Not a bad call, given all the extra perspiring he was doing on his way. He had decided to leave another gift preemptively. A gift and then tonight he would ask. It would be perfect, surely with Oswald ripe for the pursuit after getting a riddle written just for him and a box of expensive candies, chocolates all shaped like little penguins just for him. Because of his nickname. Which he had hated at one time, but also what Edward heard people call him more often in the recent past, so perhaps he was growing fond of it? Regardless, he believed the gesture would be met with appreciation. Oswald seemed like such an appreciative person, someone who would see thoughtfulness and know how much it mattered. 

And Ed was nothing if not thoughtful. 

He paid the same security man to let him inside, with a promise to be back again in five minutes. Just needed to put it on the bar and leave. He had to admit though, he wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of the man he adored while he was here. After all, he wondered if there was anything so pleasant as looking into those soft sea green eyes of his. 

“No, to the left! Yes, like that… NO!” Oswald was indeed there, and angry as he was directing two very large men on how to hang his newest neon sign just above the main stage. The men seemed frustrated and finally propped it against the wall. 

“Look, boss. You want it done, you do it, huh? We’re two hours overdo for a break and we’re takin it…” He motioned for the other man to follow which was proceeded with Oswald shouting angrily after them, only for his eyes to catch Ed staring. 

Oops.

He couldn’t really help it though. When Oswald was angry, his whole face flushed with feeling and his words were enunciated with a vitriolic sort of passion. He was such a passionate person. Edward rather wished he could be more like that. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The words spoken in Oswalds rather accusatory tone bring Ed back to reality and away from his wistful thoughts. 

“O-oh… I…” Ed stumbled over his tongue as he felt rather caught in this moment. 

“In fact, I had been meaning to have a chat with you, Mr. Nygma… About your constant presence here. I want to know... “ Oswald was closing the distance between them with narrowed eyes. “Who sends you. You clearly don’t come for the drinks or the ambiance. You never meet anyone… I know you’re here to spy on me and I want to know who is sending you, and I want you to know I’ll pay you double what they do to flip on them. If it’s money you want, Mr. Nygma, I promise you no one will ever match my price.” He smirked that devilish smirk of his and the recent angry flush had still not yet faded. The two aspects combined and only served to accentuate the freckles that covered his nose and cheeks and Edward has to remind himself not to lose sight of what’s being said. But Oswald is so close and this is the most he’s ever really even spoken to him. 

“Wh-what?” He stammers. “N-no, Mr. Cobblepot. I’m not a spy. I don’t… I don’t even know of anyone who would want me to spy on you-- And I don’t want money… I want you--” He hesitated and swallowed, trying to steady his anxious breathing. “I-I want you to have something. I’m here today, t-to bring you these.” His hands shove forward the small box and card in the most forced sort of gesture of offering. “I was going to leave them here, on the bar.” He looks down but then back up at Oswald, continuing to ramble. “I… I didn’t even know you’d be here. But since you are, here. T-take them. I know how much you like sweets.” Edward just stops his stammering to stare helplessly at the other man, awkward and yet unaware of his own awkwardness. For a moment, a part of him wonders if Oswald will take the gift and open it now. A part of him, he can’t help but admit is very much all of him. It would be nice to see his face. To see his delight. To have caused that. The moment seems to stretch in an eternity and yet, Edward never stops looking rather expectantly at Oswald. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally written with the next chapter as one big chunk-- but for the sake of consistent-ish sizes, I split it at what I hoped was a natural feeling stopping point.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope is given.

Oswald narrowed his eyes at Edward, assessing the awkward and nervous seeming man. He takes the box and tosses it on the bar. “Thanks, then.” He still seems skeptical though. Ed can’t blame him when he considers his recent behavior of constantly hanging around and just watching Oswald. He has rather been spying. But not… Not for any reason Oswald might think. Ed makes a mental note to seem less… Invasive in his future observations.

“How tall are you?” Oswald’s voice breaks through Ed’s mental wandering once again and he snaps his eyes to meet the criminal’s quickly. Before he can answer. “Never mind, you’re tall enough. Come help me hang this sign. My incompetent staff don’t understand the difference in left and right.” He orders him to help, and Ed isn’t sure what bothers him more, how happy he is just for the time to spend with Oswald or the fact he doesn’t even consider refusing to help. He just follows him over to the stage. Oswald has a step ladder that adds a solid foot to his height when he stands at the top. The sign is heavy, as well-- which is unfortunate because brute strength was never a gift of Edwards. He attempts lift with his legs though. He doesn’t want to seem weak. This is his moment. He’s helping Oswald. He’s… Soon enough he’ll be joking with him. Laughing with him-- oh, Oswald had such a nice laugh. Happy and joyous and contagious. He laughed with a carelessness that Edward had never known.

Unlike before, Ed hadn’t let his mind wander. He was focusing on his task, which is what makes it all the more jarring when Oswald falls. It’s a loud thud first and the sound of the smaller man crying out in pain. Ed feels Oswald’s side of the neon go down fast, and attempts to overcompensate with his side-- but it isn’t enough and soon enough there’s shattered glass all over the floor. And Oswald! Oswald sits amidst the now broken fragments of glass and filament from the sigh, groaning in pain and clutching his ankle.

“Oh dear!” He yelps and rushes to help him. “I-- I’m so sorry… I… I’m so sorry. You’re hurt. Oh dear! Let me help!” Ed reaches out to help, only to have Oswald scowl a little at him.

“I don’t need your help or your pity!” He spits the words and looks back to his injured ankle. It’s the already weak one. The one Ed noticed he limped from as of four months ago? Five? He’d have to count to remember just when, but if pressed he could probably give the exact day it had started. Edward noticed these things. He noticed everything about Oswald.

“It’s not pity.” Edward sighed, insistent on helping. “Just let me help you up-- Or carry you! I can carry you away from this glass. I have a perfect knowledge of anatomy and biology-- I can examine your ankle as well…” He is already four steps into a plan that hasn’t even been agreed upon yet, but he holds back on touching Oswald until the criminal agrees.

Which comes after a long pause as Oswald looks around at the crushed neon and back at his beautiful new ruined sign-- it comes not as a yes or even a nod, but rather as a simple, but effective threat.

“If you tell anyone about this, you’re dead.” And then he holds out his arms and Ed can’t describe the delicacy with which he picked him up. So gently. His arms scoop underneath Oswald and he picks up the rather heavier than expected man, glancing around for where to go. A booth? A table? The bar? His mind is clearly racing so Oswald takes over he decisions. “To my office. That door over there on the left-- the one that’s open. In there.” His arms gently rest on either side of Ed’s neck, but the touch is enough pressure to draw Edward into the millions of thoughts that come from this sort of contact. He could kiss him. He could press that deeply sloped nose of his against Ed’s chest, inhale his cologne which he had worn just especially for today. He can’t help the way his hands curl a little into Oswalds leg and waist as he carries him. It’s impossible not to want to hold him. To grip him. He also draws a deep breath in to enjoy the scent of Oswald.

He smelled like shoe shine and linen.   On any one else, it would have merely been indicative of some preposterous sort of obsessive cleanliness that Ed would have appreciated a little as it matched his own. But no. Oswald was… Well, he wasn’t unclean. But his appearance could both be devastatingly important or profoundly arbitrary to him. He was contradictory like that. This scent, which Ed had noticed when sniffing near Oswald as of late, was the result of power. He wore pressed shirts and clean shoes every day. Always. Because he could afford to.

Because he was becoming somebody in this town.

The thought rendered Ed more than a little in awe of Oswald. Soon they reached his office, and he placed the crime boss on his sofa, gently and with great care to his comfort. “I should look over your ankle.” He said and adjusted his glasses a little-- fidgeting. “That fall could have affected your preexisting condition. It could cause serious damage.” Even as he was speaking, he had knelt in the floor in front of Oswald and was reaching for his leg, only to have Oswald jerk away.

“I don’t know why you’re so concerned, Mr. Nygma, but I can assure you I’m fine.” He was irritated. That wasn’t good. Edward hated that. People were always irritated with him and he never got a good answer why. He never even got an answer at all. People just pushed him away or called him names or yelled at him. No one ever explained to him why just being himself seemed so bothersome. But as with all things, he apologized quickly and withdrew.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, M-Mr. Cobblepot.” He offers the words, and his eyes go to the floor. He’s already thinking of a way to get the conversation back around to a pleasant place. But he’s interrupted by the most shocking sort of thing. Oswald’s hand… On his….. On his hand that rests on the sofa beside Oswald. It’s soft. Just a single touch. Just to get him to look up. But it feels… It feels so intimate. Is it intimate? Is that what Oswald means by it. Just as soon as it’s there, it’s gone. But the sensation lingers. Ed can still feel the warmth of his hand. It’s imprinted into his brain now.

“You didn’t offend me, Mr. Nygma-- I-- Ed. That's what people call you, right? Ed, not Edward?” Ed nods softly in response before giving a dry swallow.

“Yes. Either is fine, Mr. Cobblepot.”

“You can call me Oswald, Ed. I… I’m sorry for being so gruff with you.” He offers and sighs heavily. Ed thinks his heart is pounding so loud in his ears that he can barely imagine anything making him happier. Being told to call him Oswald. That was certainly familiarity. Friendship even. Which was so much more than they had so far. “I’ve been under a lot of stress. I shouldn’t have accused you of being a spy. You’re a regular and the reasons why don’t matter. I appreciate your business… And your kind gestures.” He offers and smiles at him before it falters into a frown for a moment and Edward worries he’s done something wrong even as he’s done absolutely nothing. “I never got a chance to properly thank you for those lilies, did I?” He asked, tilting his head a little. A blush floods Ed’s cheeks as he can’t resist the beaming smile on his face.

“N-no, you didn’t. I mean I… I didn’t do it for thanks. I just wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve nice things.” He says, and as he speaks, he feels a little emboldened by the moment, moving to sit next to Oswald now on the sofa. “Things far better than certain other people offer you…” His voice is measured, he knows this topic could get sensitive. Oswald offers him a curious look, and Ed looks down, searching for an explanation. Something not… Emotional. Because this sentiment wasn’t. It wasn’t about him or his designs on Oswald. He meant… He meant what he wanted to say.

“Fun fact.” He looks up at Oswald, as if it has all clicked, just how to explain this to him. “The human species attracts members of the opposite sex via pheromones excreted in saliva, sweat, and urine.” Oswald looked puzzled and confused, so Ed sighed and leaned in a little to elaborate. “But, one can’t always trust such an animalistic method to find a suitable partner.” He gave a slight smile, as if that should clarify things completely. Oswald only looked more confused.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“Arnold Flass is… I know you two were dating, and if the attraction wasn’t intellectual-- how could it be with that gorilla,” he rolled his eyes. “Than it must be physical… He’s just… He’s such a bad, bad,” He closed his eyes and shook his head a little. “BAD--” He was cut off by the hand on his again.

“I appreciate your concern, Ed. I do. But it won’t be necessary. I’ve realized there are far better men in the world than Arnold Flass.” Oswald smiled a little at Edward and Ed… Ed could feel it. This was what people talked about. Chemistry, as they called it. This moment. This touch… So soft and yet it seemed to stop the entire world around them and he just looked at Oswald adoringly.

This was it. This was his chance.

“Oswald, I---”

“Hey!” Came a voice from the door. “Hey, YOU, YOU SAID FIVE MINUTES.” Came the security guard who Ed’s eyes darted to, and Oswald lifted a hand towards him.

“Excuse me, but this man is a friend of mine, he is welcome here, thank you.” Oswald smiled back at Ed but then glanced to his own watch and muttered a little curse. “I’m sorry, Ed, but while he needn’t be so rude--” a pointed glance for the guard. “You really should be going. I have work to do and you should likely be getting back to the GCPD.” he smiled at him. “Thank you for coming by and for the help…” Oswald gave a groan as he stood on his sore ankle, but he snagged up his cane and used it to lean on as he hobbled out of the office, leaving the taller man looking and feeling rather…

Well disappointed didn’t feel like enough of a word.

But… But that was no matter. Tonight was still tonight. He’d come back as planned. And he’d ask him. And everything would be perfect.

Tonight.

\---

 

Night came indeed, and Edward had spent the rest of his day at work just planning and considering just what he wanted to do and how. It wasn’t as if it was a hard thing, but he had practiced all the same. Again and again. He even picked out flowers for Oswald, much like the ones he gave him before. He entered the club right around opening, the bouquet secreted behind his back as he approached Oswald who was in some phoney discussion with what looked like a society type person.

They laughed.

Oswald laughed.

Not his real laugh though-- no something fake and lacking in real joy.  Ed approached him and gently reached out to touch his shoulder. Oswald spun around and smiled at him.

“Ah, hello old friend. Or perhaps I should call you a hero for your chivalry earlier.” He smiled at him.  Edward licked his lips and felt a blush creeping over him.

“I don’t know that anyone else wouldn’t have done the same… Oswald, I was wondering,” Here it was the moment of truth. Deep breath. Every possible no and yes played in front of his eyes and yet-- no, no he knew Oswald would say yes. They had a moment earlier and it was undeniable. Oswald would like him back. He just knew it. “If you had dinner plans tomorrow evening.” He smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with clear intention.

Oswald frowned though a little.

He hesitated and Edward could feel his own expression falling a millimeter by the second.

“Actually, yes, I do… I’m going to dinner with Tom-- ah, Tom.” He pointed to a far too chiseled and muscular police officer who entered the club and moved right to the criminal. He wrapped an arm around Oswald and kissed his cheek. “Have you met Tom, Edward?”

Ed recognized him from around the precinct. “Officer Dougherty.” He said blankly as his fingers now were crushing the flowers behind his back.

“Hey, you’re the guy that likes riddles… Hey, what has hands but can’t clap?” Tom gave a big dumb smile to Ed.

“A clock.” Came the lifeless sounding, monotone response. The imbecile at Oswald's side smiled and complimented him or something. He didn't really hear it. He wasn't really listening. No, he needed answers too much right now. He needed to know. “Am I correct to assume this is your new boyfriend then?” He asked, eyes on Oswald in an almost accusatory glance, but in truth he is too disappointed to be truly mad at him.

“Um… I guess?” Oswald offers hesitantly and looks at Tom who slides his hand lower to squeeze Oswald’s ass with a pinch making the smaller man yelp a little and blush.

“You betcha!” Tom grinned. While Ed couldn’t be mad at Oswald-- he could absolutely be furious with Dougherty. And he was. He could have snapped his neck right there, as jealousy coursed through him. He wanted to. Edward wasn’t sure if in all his life of wanting to get revenge on people who had been cruel and mean and bullies to him… If he’s ever wanted to kill someone like he wants to kill Tom in this moment.

“Excuse me, I see someone I need to speak to.” Oswald speaks, interrupting Ed’s murderous intentions, he steps past and Ed manages a forced smile for his sake before Tom quickly heads to follow.

“Hey, catcha later, Riddleman. Next time, I’ll stump you!”

“Next time.” Is all Ed can say, still forcing that smile as he bites back his anger. He still wants to kill him-- but perhaps that’s just par for the course. Or perhaps Edward’s new obsession can be imagining ways Dougherty meets an untimely end rather than just sitting around and waiting for Oswald to notice him.

His breathing is hard as he heads out the front door and rips the bouquet in half, throwing it in the trash can outside the club, angry footsteps taking him towards home in the cold Gotham air. He would get Oswald to be his eventually. One day. He was determined.

(Artwork by Lin_Rinku)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And hope is taken away. 
> 
> (Don't blame me, the Gotham writers did it first-- but hey, if you're reading let me know. Hit kudos. Comment. Bookmark. Do the things so I know I'm not alone here shipping these idiots in this fic. XD )


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic abuse mentions-- because we're still trailing along the rabbit hole of what if canon. Be warned of triggering content, dears.

Edward reserved his feelings. He was perpetually that sort of man. The sort who was rather adept at holding in what he felt-- particularly in moments when he felt for certain there was nothing to be done with his own feelings. He decided that in place of any desire for ill towards Oswald, he would hold onto his hopes. Just…. Hold onto his love and maybe in time Oswald would see that Dougherty was a moron and Edward was brilliant. Maybe-- even as a voice in his head echoed the hopelessness of such an endeavor. Clearly Oswald didn’t care about him. Not really. Clearly…. No. NO. 

He and Oswald were soulmates. Kindred spirits. Meant for one another and made to be together. He loved him. He was sure of it. He loved Oswald and Oswald… Oswald HAD to love him back. He… He just needed time. 

It would have been predatory. 

Perhaps it was. 

But Edward couldn’t see how this was one-sided. How this could be one-sided and yet even if it was, even if it was all in his head, he could wait forever. Spend a lifetime loving Oswald and adoring him as the man deserved from afar. Even if it had to be from afar. Even if he would never know Oswald’s depth of affection. 

He still loved him. 

He would always love him. 

And so he had resigned himself to the notion of this sort of pining being his fate indefinitely. He had even… Even almost managed to make a strange kind of peace with Officer Dougherty. In that he only fantasized about strangling/beheading/shooting/stabbing the man maybe…. Twice a day now? Twice a day unless he had the unfortunate incident of running into him. But then seeing the man and knowing what he was doing to the person Edward loved, knowing he was sharing Oswald’s company and kissing his lips and touching his body, and-- well, it wasn’t Ed’s fault for wanting to kill him was it? No, of course not. Any sane and rational man who cared for anyone would have the completely natural and justified desire for homicide. It was completely normal. Ed often made these reassurances, but he was never quite sure of just who he was trying to convince in his own head of his own sanity. 

Having made a kind of peace with it wherein he wasn’t filled with blinding, heart pounding rage every second, he was even able to become friends with Oswald. Real friends. They had lunch together sometimes. Not a lot-- but sometimes. Edward would have time at work and run down to the club so he could spend his hour break there. They’d talk and laugh and joke. Books, music, childhood anecdotes-- well Oswald’s childhood at least. Edward liked to keep his childhood a well guarded mystery, mostly to disguise the tragedy of it all. The last thing Ed would ever want was Oswald’s pity. He was one of the first and only people in all of his life to not look at Ed like a charity case or some freak. He saw a person. An equal. A… a partner maybe one day. 

On this day, lunch had been pre-arranged two weeks ago when Edward had offered to cook for Oswald when the criminal stated his love of lamb and Ed immediately offered up the fact he made the most exquisite lamb. He had baked it this morning first thing, and had it in a baking dish ready to reheat when he came to the club. 

Everything had been set days ago. 

Confirmed. 

This was a lunch for them. 

So Edward could hardly hold back his irritation and disgust when he opened the door to Oswald’s office with a big dumb smile on his face and found Oswald pressed against his desk, with Tom Dougherty standing against him, all far too tall and far to encroaching. Oswald couldn’t possibly enjoy the lumbering buffoon being so close, could he?

“Oswald, I--” He cut off when he saw the scene and his face fell to surprise. He stood in the doorway chewing the inside of hs cheek to keep from saying something he might regret. After all, he wanted this friendship. He NEEDED this friendship. 

“You forgive me?” Tom muttered under his breath, brushing a kiss to Oswald’s carotid. At least he seemed to be wrapping up this little scene. Ed watched from this angle, not able to see Oswald’s face very well-- but easily able to see his position and the way Tom moved. His lips seemed to trail over the pale skin of Oswald’s neck, and Ed rather liked the idea of how disgusted Oswald might look in this moment. Dougherty seemed a bit too unshaven, meaning his stubble would rake over the criminal’s soft skin and his breath could likely smell of anything he might have had for lunch. Or worse. Perhaps he had a few drinks before coming back here and wreaked of scotch. Perhaps he had onions at some point earlier in the day. Ed smirked a little to himself at the imagining of Oswald’s handsome features distorting in repulsion, even as he watched the man nod in agreement to what Dougherty asked. What had he asked again? Oh right. Forgiveness. He wondered what part of his being needed to be forgiven. Hopefully something particularly revolting. 

He moved away from Oswald and around the desk to where he stepped past Ed and smirked at him. “Hey, Riddleman, how’s it hangin?” 

“Oh it’s uhh… Hangin…” He didn’t wait for a reply, but Edward stammered a little after him, “It’s f-f… It’s fine.” He said firmly with a small huff, and then looked at Oswald with the dish still in his hands. He was straightening his suit, fixing his hair and then he smiled when he turned to face Edward. 

“Ah, my good friend. I-- I’m sorry. I didn’t expect Tom to stop by.” As he spoke with a clearly on edge tone, Oswald reached with a slightly shaky hand to get a glass of wine that sat on his desk. In the process and before Edward can even properly greet him, the criminal sloshes the glass out and onto his sleeve. Soaking through the expensive black fabric of his jacket to stain his linen shirt underneath. 

“OH just perfect!” Oswald huffs a curse and Ed rushes to his side. 

“Calm down, Oswald, it’s okay….” The wine has drenched his jacket sleeve and through to his white shirt. “I.. I know how to get this out… Just relax.” He smiled at little at the chance to touch his arm. He looks at the stain, hesitant for a moment. “I… I should definitely soak this… Can you-- could you take the jacket and shirt off so I can rinse it? I promise I can keep the stain from setting.” He smiled brightly at Oswald, wanting to show off even if in this moment Oswald himself was clearly irritated. 

The shorter man looked at Ed, with ever so slight frustration and also… Well, amazement. Ed never ceased to amaze him. Even in this moment when Oswald was clearly beyond his normal state of frustration to a new realm of outside tensions and other stressers, Edward looked at him with such a sweet expression of admiration and of hope that he might be allowed to help. The penguin relented, and motioned for Ed to turn away. He might have his undershirt, but there was still something oddly too intimate about the idea that Ed would see him in any state of undress. They weren’t friends to him. Friendly,sure.  They shared good meals and pleasant conversation, but one would be sorely mistaken to consider Oswald anymore attached to the riddle loving oddball than he was to any employee he might have in his staff. Yes given their loyalty, he’d enjoy having them around but in an instant the tides could turn and he would just as happily slit his throat. 

Edward of course, would never dream of even so much as peeking anyway. Besides which, Oswald may not think them friends, but Ed certainly did. Oswald was the first friend Edward had ever really had. In a city of idiots, who politely nodded but never did more than placate him-- rarely even doing that, Oswald was everything. He had become more than everything.  Moreover still he craved that, and all he could get from Oswald to a point that there was little the penguin could do to shirk off he adoration he felt. What had been such devotion from afar, had grown in the passing weeks into an even deeper sense of caring. Of affection. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for the man he loved. 

And thus, when Oswald reached out a hand to push his soiled shirt and jacket at Edward, who only glanced down at the hand offering it and happened to catch a sight of the bruises on his arm--

It was sheer impulse which compelled him to turn around. 

“Oswald!” He gasped,reaching to grab his wrist and gently turn over the man’s forearm in an earnest inspection. “W-what happened? Are you alright?” At first the questions spilled out, and then Ed realized as he peeled his eyes away from the injury to look at Oswald’s rather embarrassed face… Oops. He hadn’t been meant to look at him. Edward colored as well, blushing a bit as his eyes caught a glimpse of just how slender and elegant Oswald’s neck was, having always been hidden beneath layers of shirt collars and ties. No. NO. This wasn’t about that. His eyes darted back down to look at Oswald’s arm, concern etched so deeply into his face that he looked almost older with the weight of it.

“It’s nothing, Ed.” Oswald sighed, tense from the question. The intimacy. All of it. He didn’t like that Ed was so close to him, so familiar that he would even feel justified in questioning Oswald. The man clearly didn’t realize his place in all of this. Yes,this was a problem. Oswald should shove him. Slap him. Shoot him. Stab him. Some punishment for grabbing him and for looking when told not to and for…. For daring to feel so comfortable with Oswald as to look down at his injury with so much expectation of an answer. And yet-- well, that was rather nice, wasn’t it?

Oswald would never admit it. No, it would be too sincere. But there was something so profoundly darling about the fact that Ed was worried. About him. Here was a man who the criminal didn’t like for more than conversation and polite company, and Edward seemed to care so much. To worry over him. When was the last time anyone worried about Oswald? Other than his mother. She worried all the time, but it never felt like this to see her fret. It never made Oswald’s knees feel just a little… whats the word? Weak? Again, not that he would ever admit it. 

“Did officer Dougherty do this?” Edward asked and suddenly those brown eyes were looking up expectantly from behind unforgiving lenses and the tension in Oswald’s body intensified. 

“He didn’t.. He didn’t mean to.” He pulled his arm away, out of the worried grasp and huffed a little as he moved to his desk. It felt easier not to look at Ed in the eyes. Not if he was going to keep looking so concerned. It hurt something deep in his core to feel someone like Ed be that concerned.  “I said some things I shouldn’t have. He was angry… Relationships between men can be complicated. It isn’t like with women. Men are more physical with each other. Tom is going to work on it.” His voice is slightly removed from the moment, and his hand finds the glass of wine from before without having been searching for it. 

He takes a drink while he feels Ed step closer to him. Ed is caught in between things. He is scared of ruining it. Ruining everything. He loves Oswald so much and they were finally in a place where… A place where to him they were friends. And if he… If he does this… If he ruins it… But no! No, this is wrong. Oswald has to know that. He deserves better than that. He deserves… He deserves to be treated like Ed would treat him. Why doesn’t he know? 

“Oswald, this.-. This is NOT right, he can’t do this to you. It--” 

Oswald turns around suddenly with fire in his eyes and a coldness to his tone. “Mr. Nygma, it is none of your concern.” He sighs and reaches out to grab the jacket and shirt that had been laying idly in Ed’s nondominant hand for the duration of their interaction. “I don’t think I’m free for lunch after all. You should go.” He said simply, and looked between Ed and the door. Ed, frozen for a moment in uncertainty, muttered an apology before grabbing his serving dish and shuffling off.

He felt his temper rising and boiling over. This wasn’t Oswald’s fault of course. No, the anger inside of him wasn’t directed at the poor, wonderful man he loved so very much. He passed a trash can outside of the club and threw his prepared meal inside and hearing the dish shatter against the metal interior. His footsteps fell in line, heavy and hard, and seemed to match the thudding of his eardrums. His anger was for one person and one person alone, and he would… He would do something about it. He was determined Dougherty wouldn’t do this again. He would make sure of it. 

So Edward headed back to the GCPD now to do just that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, you guys. All of you. Who are reading and commenting and being so kind with the kudos and subscribing and bookmarking and all that good stuff-- you guys give me life. I would not be able to find the inspiration to continue (especially because of chapters like this which are difficult because Kristen's 3/4 length sleeve cardigans are way more arm revealing than Oswald's suits and that plot point had to be reinvented) without you guys. You are all wonderful and I adore you and please continue your support. 
> 
> Things are just about to get good with this plot XD


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini-chapter! Because this is something that needed to happen but the next event in this timeline will def need it's own full chapter. Enjoy Ed being Ed. <3

He had the entirety of his walk back to the precinct-- several blocks, to think over what to say. How to say it. He considered accusing Tom in front of everyone and making some big scene to make the man feel guilt for what he had done. Certainly he deserved it. He deserved to feel guilty and ashamed. He deserved to be publicly ridiculed, a feeling Edward Nygma knew well and wished so heartily on the other man. 

But no, no Tom might get angry and go take that out on Oswald. 

Maybe, he could threaten him? Threats certainly seemed the way to go about things with any man brutish enough to harm someone like Oswald. Someone smaller, and delicate, and beautiful. Yes, clearly Dougherty saw violence as the only rational form of expression if he could hurt anyone. But especially Oswald. Edward was so beyond livid at the idea, he wondered about a switchblade he kept in his office at work. He had never used it of course-- it was pulled from a corpse he got in the morgue once. The man had it shoved down his throat, and Edward cut it out of his esophagus during an autopsy. Edward had thought it humorous at the time that a switch blade was the cause of his death but he hadn’t been stabbed once. He swiped it thereafter from evidence as a keepsake of his first ever autopsy-- albeit one the moron of a medical examiner had wanted to keep him from performing. One he also didn’t know Ed was performing until he entered in the middle of it and ordered Edward out. Minor details. Ed considered taking the blade with him. It might be helpful in getting his message across to the neanderthal Dougherty. Perhaps even more over if he negated threats and shoved it into his stomach…. 

No. 

NO.

Edward Nygma was better than petty violence. He was a man of rationale, of the mind, of his own brilliance, and besides… Killing Dougherty would only make Oswald sad. Clearly he was far more invested in the man emotionally than Ed would prefer, since surely if he were anything short of in love with him, harming Oswald would terminate their relationship entirely. Oswald wasn’t one to be pushed around. 

Okay so he couldn’t kill him, threaten him, or make a scene… No, he needed to be more subtle. He needed to handle this smartly. He could appeal to the humanity of the man, let him know he was caught and issue a stern warning about ever doing it again… But how to even broach the topic. He wondered for perhaps less than a second before feeling certain a riddle, as they did with all things, would suffice. And Edward knew just the one as well. By the time he reached the police station, he knew just what to say. And so with measured steps and a forced expression of calm, he approached the man and his friends. He cleared his throat to attract Tom’s attention.

“Riddle man!” He smirked a little down at him from where he stood up a few of the stairs, clustered with other officers. Ed hated him so much. His smugness, his little nickname. His condescension. 

“Officer Dougherty, a word?” He said simply, biting back all the other words that wanted to bubble to the surface. 

The officer raised a brow and gave a nod to his friends who left and when they cleared away, Ed looked down for a moment. He wanted to be on more firm footing with eye contact. He stepped closer, enough so he was inline with Dougherty even if he was still up the stairs. 

The officer looked at him expectantly. 

“I can start a war or end one. I can give you the strength of heroes or leave you powerless.” The officer rolled his eyes, but Edward continued. “I may be snared with a glance, but no force can compel me to stay. What am I?” Ed titled his head a little. 

Dougherty still had that smirk on his face as he just shrugged a little. So relaxed. So carefree. As if he hadn’t harmed Oswald. As if he shouldn’t be full of shame and regret. Every second he looked at him, Ed was getting angrier. “You got me.” Was the response Ed received. 

“Love.” He said immediately. “Mr. Cobblepot has given his to you, and yet you hurt him. I saw the bruises.” There, he said it. He was confronted. Now perhaps that sense of nonchalance could be wiped off that overly square jawline of his. 

“And?” 

That was all that came in response. 

That one word. And a look. A look as if Ed were overreacting. As if those bruises were nothing. As if Oswald being hurt meant nothing. Edward began to lose his temper.

“And you CANNOT do that!” He insisted, nostrils flaring. “THE NEXT TIME YOU DO THAT I’ll--” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoah… Calm down.” He cut him off and Ed was huffing, heart racing. He was just so angry. “Don’t give yourself a girly fit.” Oh what a charming colloquialism. He wondered what kind of girly fit the officer might have when slit his throat. His eyes narrowed on Tom, barely listening to whatever excuses he might offer. Much to his surprise. None came. No ‘I was just upset’. No ‘I lost my cool’. Nothing. No instead, this was Oswald’s fault. Somehow. “Have you ever been with a man? Or a woman even…?” Dougherty asked with a frown and while the answer would be no, Ed’s lack of response partially came from his own shock at even now how awful Tom was changing the subject like this. Ed drew a little breath in his moment of non response and Tom made a soft tsking sound. “Didn’t think so… Sometimes, girly men like Os... They need a firm hand. Just like with women. Goes double for Cobblepot. Guy’s got a tongue.” As he spoke, he looked away as if he were speaking some sincere universal truth. 

Ed knew in that moment what he had to do. 

“I won’t let you hurt him.” The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. Not that he wanted to stop them. 

Dougherty just laughed. “Oh yeah?” He stepped closer, down a few steps to close the distance between them and try to intimidate Ed. In this moment, he regretted the way he involuntarily gulped in slight concern. He was unarmed. Dougherty was a lot stronger than him and in this moment he had no upper hand so brute strength would be enough. “What’re you going to do?” he asked, still smiling that sickening smile. Ed could have spoken, but instead he chose silence. In this moment a fight would be unwise and drawing attention to them unwiser still. He remained silent, staring at Tom and feeling shocked at how quickly his mind was turning over the possibilities of what he could do. What he _ wanted _ to do. 

Tom clicked and winked at Ed with a slight tilt of his head. 

“That’s what I thought.” And with those words, he brushed past Ed-- bumping his shoulder into Ed’s as he rounded the small landing to finish going down the stairs. “Later Riddleman!” He called as he walked away. Ed turned to watch him go, knowing full well what he might well have to do to keep Oswald safe. 

He had no other choice, but then that… That was okay. He was willing to do this. He would ENJOY doing this because it meant Oswald would be safe. He couldn’t just stand back and let this guy hurt him. He couldn’t. So he made plans for another confrontation later that night-- but this time Ed wouldn’t bother with reason. Violence was the only language this monster spoke and so he would adapt the tongue as well. He was already shuffling off to get his switchblade. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my friend Beth, who when I told I had reached the end of this chapter and it was official, Edward had made the decision to kill Tom, responded simply with. 
> 
> "They grow up so fast." 
> 
> I couldn't think of a better way to describe it XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Ta-da! 
> 
> Note this is a much goreier chapter than past chapters and has murder-- which should surprise no one. We all knew this was coming (:

He waited outside the club before it opened. He had forged a note from Oswald to Tom, insisting he come to see him early for a rendezvous. The moron had bought it hook, line, and sinker and Edward was all the more pleased about the fact. Now Tom was coming here and Oswald was actually at a meeting of his own-- of some description Ed was not privy to, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Edward was going to save him. And then-- well then perhaps after a suitable amount of time mourning the break up… Oswald would be a position to see properly just what Ed could bring to a relationship.

He just needed to handle Dougherty first.

His hands gripped into his thigh. Maybe… Maybe he didn’t need to kill him. Maybe he could threaten him. Something inside of Edward hesitated, stuttering at the notion of ending a life. Was he capable of that? Was he really at peace with his own mind to a point he felt comfortable deciding to kill another human being… Was he sure he could do this? The questions swirled inside his head and seemed to threaten the certainty with which he had first decided his plan. Maybe just a confrontation. His hand continued to wrinkle his trousers with the force used to grip the fabric over his thigh. He was racing through scenarios in his head, trying to decide just how and when and where this would happen. What he would do afterwards. He wasn’t a killer though, was he? That wasn’t him. He was a good person… He was a hero. He would be the hero in this.

In the midst of deciding his own morality, Edward spotted him walking along the sidewalk. The sun had gone down already, time just rounding six pm… Two hours before the club would even open. Plenty of time to do what he needed to do.

A vague sense of disgust ran through him when he saw the smirk on the oaf’s face. He clearly thought this was about getting lucky. He thought that even after doing what he did… That even after harming the man he was supposed to love... After being so monstrous, Oswald would share his body with him again. He definitely deserved everything Edward could dish out for him. Without a question.

“Stop right there buster!” He called through the open window, moving to get out of his car. Tom indeed stopped, looking back with a furrowed brow. He took a few steps, headed for the side of the street where Ed was parked.

“Riddle man? What the hell are you doing creeping around here?” He asked, glancing around as if to find some cause for Ed’s presence.

“You need to leave Oswald alone.” He said firmly, standing his ground. He didn’t want to kill him, even for as much as he did indeed want to. Edward wasn’t a murderer. He just.. He would do whatever was needed to keep Oswald safe.

“What?”

“I’m not going to let you hurt him. Ever again. I think you need to leave Gotham. Tonight.” There. He was giving him a chance to do the right thing. To spare himself from all this wrath that had built up inside of Ed and seemed to gnaw at his skin in an effort to be released. But no… No, he was stronger. He could fight it.

Tom laughed a little. “I get it now. You got a thing for my guy…” He laughed a little more and Edward couldn’t see what was so humorous about any of this. Didn’t Officer Dougherty realize what this was? What was inside of Ed? Or was the taller man just that good at hiding it. “That is too funny.” Tom’s voice muttered as he stepped closer and suddenly had a hand on Ed’s shoulder.  “Don’t take this personal.” His voice was soft as he leaned in closer to Ed and then suddenly his fist made contact with Edward’s stomach. A hard, deep blow that had Ed doubled over on the ground and gasping for air.

He knew in that second this was his chance. This was his chance to protect Oswald. To save him… And moreover, this was his chance to get back at them all. Everyone who had ever hurt him or mocked him or called him names. Everyone who had ever contributed to the man now huddled over here in the street, feeling so much rage inside him it seethed. This wasn’t just about Tom-- it was all the men in his miserable life that Tom represented. The bullies. The brutes. The people who looked at Ed as someone who was less than them-- less than worthless and as someone who they could treat as they liked. This was about a lifetime of being hurt, ignored, and rejected.

This was about Edward Nygma being the man who didn’t take it anymore.

“Aww…” Dougherty chuckled a little, grabbing a handful of Ed’s jacket from his shoulder. “You want some more? Upsy-daisy--” He was cut off as he lifted Ed, only to have the taller man shove his switchblade into his stomach. The sound it made echoed into Edward’s very core. The sharp, hard sound of metal into still warm-- still tense and living and flexed human flesh. That sound. “Oh dear…” He muttered as it was all so real at once. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he wasn’t able to do this after all… But no… No, it was happening. He couldn’t turn back could he? He looked down at the knife as he pulled it out of Tom and blood covered the shiny metal. Ed’s victim slumped a little, and in reflex, Ed pushed out his hand to catch him only to stab him another time. That sound again. That… That far too satisfying, far too gratifying, far too delicious sound.

It was too late.

And in this moment, Edward realized he didn’t particularly want to go back.

He stared into Dougherty’s eyes and began to stab him. Again and again. He grunted with the force with which he drove the knife into him. Again and again, enjoying the sound it made everytime it sliced into the man’s gut, and lavishing the way he looked at Ed so… So frightened and shocked and helpless. Ed had made him helpless. What a change. What a welcome, revel-worthy change. He shoved the knife in again and again. In and out. In and out. His heart raced, his blood seemed to pound through his veins as though he had been running  marathon. He had once heard a runner describe the act of running as a high-- and that made sense endorphins flowed more freely in those moments of excessive physical exercise. But of course, this wasn’t one of those moments. He wasn’t exercising excessively. Not in a physical sense.

No, this high-- these endorphins were filling him for a very different kind of exertion. This was the mental and emotional strain he pushed past. Finally. For a runner, the high came from pressing past their physical barriers and feeling the thrill of going that stride further-- for a man like Ed in this kind of moment the high came from the fact he had pushed past EVERYTHING. Every lesson he’d been taught in his less than happy childhood, every standard set before him by a society wrenched together to exclude him for the most part, and every moral and ethical degree of concern that had been mercilessly shoved down his throat by convention… By the decision of lesser men. By men who had no right to tell someone as clever, or as superior as Ed what to do.

He had always known that, but finally now he was expressing his certainty of it.

In. And out.

Dougherty slumped more when Ed pulled the knife back a final time and gasped that oh so condescending nickname. “Riddleman…” It was a croak of a word, and Ed let his fingertips of his hand which hand been helping hold Tom up… Well, he let them trail a little over the chest of the man who was now his victim. The man who had bullied him, hurt the man he loved, intended to continue to do so. He just wanted to touch him one last time. To feel his body when it was still warm. To reassure himself he had done the right thing. Because in this moment he knew with all certainty the one thing which he always muttered to himself in the years of derision at the hands of this or that tormentor be it at work or in his personal life. Ed always told himself they were just people. People who didn’t realize what he could do. Men. Women. Individuals so caught up in their selfish little lives that not once did it occur to them that Edward Nygma could affect them. That he was a force to be reckoned with.

Well, here he was having proved every last one of them wrong.

Oh he was a monster… To think this way surely… But no, it felt so good…. Even if he knew it was wrong. Sociopathic even. But then sociopaths can’t feel love and he did this for love…

He strings together justifications and self admonishments in his thoughts as he mutters a series of “oh dears” all caught up in his stepping back from the now sprawled dead body to admire his handiwork. Tom had been so carefree no more than maybe a minute ago… Less than that even… Ed had ended the life a man who was entirely fine other than the fact he had underestimated Edward. And the fact he had felt justified in hurting Oswald. Oh Oswald wouldn’t be pleased with Ed. He clearly loved Tom. This was… Oh it was all so terrible.

And wonderful.

He had done it. Finally. After so much fantasizing, he had done it and he found a smile spreading across his lips as he looked down at the blood on his fingertips. It had been inside Tom. It was his blood. A breathless laugh escaped Ed as phantom warmth radiated from the red stains on his fingers. It was the most beautiful feeling Ed had ever experienced. He immediately wanted more of it. He wanted to cut Tom open and hold his no longer beating heart. He wanted to enjoy knowing he was the one who did that. The one who stopped it. That had been his decision and his power.

Oh this really was terrible. He frowned and worry etched into his face. Both for his own sanity and for the fact he needed to get rid of this body now. No body, no crime. His trunk was already lined with plastic-- not that he had been certain he would be disposing of a body of course. He just… He wanted to be prepared. Getting him inside was no easy task, but strength often comes from necessity more strongly than it does from anywhere else. Now just for Ed to get the body back to his apartment to be disposed of. He already had the hacksaw, bags, and two large rolling trunks. He could get it into the precinct in pieces and destroy it there with his materials.

Again, not that he had necessarily planned on it with certainty.

But likewise, he certainly hadn’t _not_ planned on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys as always thank you for your support! It means everything that I'm no longer sitting in Word and scribbling little drabbles for myself. Having a friend encourage me to pursue publishing my writing really made all the difference in making it feel more like something worthwhile. Everyone who reads is a part of that and as always, I appreciate yas! 
> 
> In other news...  
> A friend (http://linrinkuarts.tumblr.com/) made fanart for this fic. The scene we all love back in chapter three of Ed carrying Oswald. Go check it out. It's been added to the chapter and is adorable. And hey! If you ever make art for my fic, let me know via comment. I'd love to include your amazing works in with my chapters as well. (:


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Edward disposes of a body, and falls a little more in love with Oswald. 
> 
> (More graphic-ish content. Don't say I didn't warn ya. )

He had watched the life fade from Tom’s eyes and now… Now, he has to get rid of the body left behind. No body, no crime. He repeats it to himself in a mutter again and again back at his apartment building as he uses the back elevator to get Officer Dougherty-- wrapped in black plastic-- up to his apartment. Cutting him up is bloodier somehow than Edward had imagined and that fact feels rather remarkably pleasant. He of course planned for so much blood, but when he fantasized about sawing the man’s limbs from his torso (a frequent fantasy he had to admit), Edward had believed the blood wouldn’t be quite so…. Vibrant. Everywhere. Beautiful. 

He had of course managed to deal in dead bodies for most of his adult life. Graduating from Gotham University with his duel degree in criminology and anatomy with a minor in biochemistry. Edward Nygma was a man who dedicated his life to understanding how bodies worked both in life and in death, with the latter being the focus of his practical studies in the forensics department of the GCPD. He was going to be a medical examiner in his own right one day. Certainly. But until then, he was happy to work with Dr. Thompkins. 

Oh, Dr. Thompkins. She could make this tricky. Ed’s current plan revolved heavily around being able to sneak the body into the morgue at the precinct and dispose of it from there. But if she caught him… He’d have to make sure she was busy. Not so difficult to do. She spent most of her time allowing Ed his experiments anyway. He’d just have to be careful. If she caught him--

Well, she would have to join officer Dougherty. 

And Ed didn’t want that-- did he?

No. He bit back his own ideas and focused on the task at hand. The bloodied limbs all wrapped individually in plastic and placed in one trunk. His head and torso in the other. All in all a rather well considered split of the weight in all honesty as Edward wheeled out the cases and placed them in the trunk of his car-- after throwing away the bloodied plastic which Tom had ridden to his apartment in of course. He had planned this all out to the tiniest detail, his mind having raced through just how to do it even before this day. After all, Tom had been with Oswald for a while now and it was so difficult for Ed not to think of how Oswald belonged with him, and how easy it would be to ensure such a thing.

He had a restless night of sleep after preparing for showtime in the morning. He would of course blame it on guilt or worry or some other emotion. In reality though? He was still riding the high of it all and not yet ready to give it up. He was awake by four am. Showering, dressing for his day like always. He needed to look like always. Nothing suspicious. 

And so he took the trunks into the GCPD in the morning. No one even batted an eye. It wasn’t that surprising. Ed remained invisible for so much of the time that it hardly even bothered him most of the time. And in moments like this, he rather felt grateful for it. Tom was soon wheeled into the lab, and the trunks were hefted up onto the table one at a time. No sight of Lee. Good. Very good. Time to get down to business. 

“Okay-doke.” He looked down as he cracked it open and rested his latex glove covered hands on the lid. “No body, no crime. No body, no crime.” He repeated to himself and nodded a little. He could do this. 

\---

It would be somewhere around preparing to dissolve the flesh of his left arm that Ed would hear a knock on the door. He looked up with alarm in his eyes, having only just adjusted his elbow length rubber gloves to ensure he remained safe as he worked on ridding himself of his current…  _ baggage _ for lack of a better term.

“Edward?” It was Oswald’s voice. Oh-- oh dear. Ed began to respond but then brought his mask down to to do more properly. 

“Os-- Oswald?” He bit the inside of his jaw. 

“Would you open the door please?”

“Um… I’m…”  _ Busy. _ He should say busy. He’s allowed to be busy. But will it look more suspicious if suddenly he doesn’t have the time for the man he was so clearly in love with? Or maybe yet still, it would be too hard to pass up this opportunity to see him. Clearly if he came all the way down here to see him it was important. Glancing between his work and the door for a few seconds, Ed decided on what to do and gave a small sigh. 

“Just a sec.” Edward decided upon instead, feeling compelled not to send Oswald away. Even now. Even in the midst of this. He screwed the cap back on his  hydrofluoric solution, pulled down his mask fully and lifted his goggles to his head-- and moved to flip the lid back down on the open case of Dougherty pieces. 

“Hi, Ed. I… I wanted to apologize for our argument yesterday. You didn’t come by the club last night and I couldn’t help but wonder if... If you’d be available to have lunch with me.” Oswald offered, smiling up at Ed in all sincerity. He really didn’t want Ed to be mad at him. What’s more he actually thought Ed COULD be mad at him. Such a sweet, darling man. 

“Oh, lunch. Right. Sure. Let me just check my schedule to see when I’m free. Wait right there.” He pointed, smiling a little still as he moved into his lab and over to the desk to fish out his planner. Normally he would have reviewed his agenda this morning but today.. Well, this particular morning had other things to keep him occupied. 

Oswald didn’t listen to Ed’s request to stay put though, and instead stepped into the small work space and glanced around a little curiously. Those blue green eyes cast silent observations over the whole of the room, until finally falling on the bloodied severed arm. His lips curled a fraction of a percentage as his eyes went wide. “Oh my goodness…. What happened to him?” He asked with a soft, curious sort of tone and took steps closer to the sink to get a better glimpse of the limb. 

Ed quickly moved to block his view for fear Oswald might somehow recognize him. He had to admit, that small twinkle in Oswald’s eye at the sight of something so grotesque made him even more in love with the man if it were possible. Oh the things he could show him someday. If they were together. If Oswald found this interesting, he should see the bodies they dredged from the river. Or the really creative serial killers that would strike. Edward would later toy with the idea of romantic lunches shared in the morgue with a freshly autopsied cadaver… He could show off his precision with a scalpel, let Oswald see him at work. He was so good at what he did after all-- and he would so love the chance to shine for an audience of his favorite person. Any chance to impress Oswald. 

For now he couldn’t let Oswald enjoy the sight though. For now, he had to hide it and he had to lie. 

“Axe.” He said immediately, a hurried answer which was quickly amended from it’s truth. Lies were so hard for Ed. Especially to anyone he cared about. “Ac--Accidental death.” his hand moved down in a definitive sort of manner, also happening to mimic an actual axe. “At a sheet metal factory… Industrial saw, just…. Zzzzz….” He made the noise and swiped his hand across in the motion. With a light shrug.” 

“Oh…” Oswald lifted on his toes to glance over Ed’s shoulder. “Poor man.” He said the words in a tone that seemed to mean anything but what the words were. His voice held no pity-- no empathy or remorse. It dripped with interest and intrigue. As if the smaller man were wondering what such an accident might have looked like. As if he might be imagining it just now. 

Edward seemed to fall ever so slightly more in love with Oswald every minute. 

“I can see why you enjoy this job… Not for the death all around you, which I’m sure would bother most…. But it must all be rather... fascinating, I would think.” He smiled a little up at Ed who blushed under such praise of his job. Under the acknowledgement of someone else understanding why he enjoyed it. No one ever understood. But then Oswald was always different than everyone else. Oswald was always special. 

“Yes, well that and one must have a sense of humor.” Edward admitted with a little laugh-- and it immediately felt rather uncomfortable, smiling a little still and looking at Oswald just under his eyelashes. His eyes were cast down, unsure of himself. That felt like such a silly thing to say under such a high compliment from a powerful man like the penguin. He needed to recover he needed to say something else. Anything else. “Did you know male emperor penguins keep their eggs warm by balancing them on their feet-- isn’t that neat?” He offered, with a renewed kind of smile, and Oswald’s furrowed expression seemed to say it all. 

No. 

Perhaps that hadn’t been just the  _ right  _ thing to say.

“Lunch, Ed?” Oswald finally saved him from sinking further into his embarrassment. 

“Right!” he smiled and looked down at his schedule for the day. “I’m free from 12:30 until 1:45… I could come by the club?” He asked and glanced upwards to find Oswald nodding a little at him. 

“Sounds like a date.” Came the response and Edward couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat at hearing Oswald call one of their meetings a date… Even if he clearly didn’t mean it in  _ that _ way. 

“Great!” Ed smiled and Oswald headed for the door only to stop for a moment and turn around. 

“Ed, you haven’t by chance seen Tom-- er…. Officer Dougherty? We were supposed to meet at the lounge last night and he didn’t show, no surprise, but then I haven’t been able to get in touch with him today… I admit the main reason I came her today was to try and touch base with him.” Oswald was frowning, looking curious. Ed might have been worried about the body but in the moment… Well, he just felt disappointed. Of course Oswald wasn’t all the way down at the police station to mend fences with him. Of course not. “No one around the precinct has seen him.” Oswald added.

“Me neither.” Ed responded with a shrug. 

“Oh.” Oswald frowned more and looked disappointed, between that and the corpse of the man in question sitting in the sink behind him, Edward really felt the pressure to end this little encounter. 

“I really need to get back to work.” He spoke suddenly and glanced to the door. 

“Oh uh--” 

“Now.” Ed added. 

“Okay.” And with that Edward rushed him out the door. Of course he came here for Dougherty. Of course he was looking for him. Ed leaned his back onto the door for a moment after having shown Oswald out. 

“Oh dear….” He gave the soft mumble. He would need to decide on something more. Something to make him disappear as theoretically as he would be disappearing physically. With a deep breath, Ed lifted his mask back up and headed forward to get back to the rather satisfying work of eliminating the body. He’d settle on what more to do once he had finished some of the task at hand. 

\---

It took surprisingly minimal time for the acid to do the trick with his body. It made quick work of the skin and muscle tissue and even bubbled over his organs in a rather delectable sort of way to observe. But the concoction left his bones for another matter. Edward checked the clock after smashing the first round of bones. He had pape work to do for Dr. Thompkins still and samples to take observations for. He could do that after lunch though. She had been on a case all morning, and likely wouldn’t be back in the office for the day. And even if she did come back, she was unlikely to look through his work. He needed to be there for lunch at the lounge though. With Oswald and his questions. He sighed, holding Tom’s skull in his hand. 

“Alas, Officer Dougherty, he’s gonna wonder where you went.” he looked at it and narrowed his eyes a little. “Perhaps a letter.. You could say goodbye. Give him some advice…” he smirked a little at that idea. “Something that  might lead him to make better choices in the future, hmm?” 

His smirk fell as he considered all this pathetic man had done to Oswald. How he had been the man Oswald chose. The man he loved. He was disgusting, a neanderthal-- a primate of minimal intelligence in comparison to Edward and moreover he wasn’t even a good man. But Oswald had chosen him. Why? Because he was handsome? Charming?  Edward still felt such vehement hatred for the man even now-- even holding his skull and having been the one to do this to him. He still hated him so much. His fingers pointed out to gouge into the skulls empty eye sockets… Perhaps in a childish way, but it was something that felt quite good for him in the moment. Satisfying in a way. He rolled the skull over and looked at it one last time before shoving it in a sack with a few of the man’s ribs and various bones from his right leg. 

His hatred poured out of him with the proceeding mallet strikes. Again and again. Smashing the bones to dust and leaving nothing left of Tom Dougherty. Nothing but dust. Ed used his full force, drawing back the weapon and slamming it down. Time and again. Time and again. Grunts poured out of his lips, his hair went amiss and his glasses went crooked. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He was beating Tom Dougherty into nothingness. And in this moment, nothing else had ever mattered so much in his life.

**He** would be Oswald's next choice. He had to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Finally we're coming to the fun bits with these two. XD I do hope you guys have noticed that this fic has a tentative end chapter with 9. it may be nine, it may be ten-- but either there is an end in sight. Sort of. Check out the collection notes for more details and as always, thank you so much for your continued support. Every new comment or kudos literally makes my day. You're all so kind and wonderful. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but this chapter was tricky to navigate because again it diverges a good bit from the source material cause Oswald is a whole hell of a lot more paranoid than Kristen ever was XD Anywayy, in this Edward is confronted about a note he leaves and first deals with experiencing the riddler in any capacity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the surprise at the end of the chapter (:

Lunch was fine. 

Not nearly as pleasant as their usual endeavors together. On the contrary,Oswald seemed wildly preoccupied by the idea of something else. Something very much not Ed. Of course… Ed knew what it was as well. Tom not meeting him and now being absent was really bothering Oswald. He seemed to be so concerned, he barely held his part of the conversation which had come to be so natural between the pair. Edward even tried to offer details about one one of the cadavers he had been working on last week. Something to try and get Oswald’s attention. Edward rather found he craved his attention. More than anything. He wanted him to notice. He wanted Oswald to care about what he was saying. But all the kingpin seemed to care about was the fact that Dougherty wasn’t around. 

It rather inflamed Ed’s temper even further, frustrating him. Perhaps this was why as soon as he left his company, he went to the lab and typed up a note from Dougherty. A goodbye letter. That should do the trick. Seal up any loose ends. Leave no more questions. He had it sent via messenger to the club, stealing a spare officer uniforms from someone’s locker for the duration of time he needed to wait for the messenger to pick it up in the forensics lab. This way if asked, Oswald would be told a cop gave the man the message to deliver. Perfect. 

Now tonight… Tonight, he would be poised to be back in the forefront of the criminal’s attentions. He even wore his best brown sport coat and came bearing a remarkable riddle for the man. Something he hoped would be just challenging enough. Yes. The note surely clarified everything. Dougherty left town. Oswald could move on. He could be happy. He could find love anew. He could love Ed. 

So the evening came, and Edward being Edward, sat in his normal seat at the end of the bar. He felt adventurous and almost carefree, and thus ordered a grasshopper. Bright green and delicious looking. Mmmm… It taste good as well. Very minty. Okay, now to watch for Oswald. Amidst the crowd of typical ne’er-do-wells and crooked cops, Edward easily lost interest and slipped into his more preferred form of daydreaming. Especially over just how Oswald would react to his riddle. How pleased he would be. Intrigued. Maybe even enamoured? Oh to imagine Oswald properly enamoured with him in return....

Edward wouldn’t be so lucky tonight though. 

Tonight, when Oswald made his appearance, he rushed right up to the forensic scientist and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off from his stool as the taller man could do little more than yelp and follow. “Oswald! W-what is it??” He stammered, impossible to deny his interest and even slight excitement at Oswald being so forceful in demanding privacy with him. And when they were alone in his back office-- Edward could almost feel Oswald’s breath against his neck with the proximity. The penguin gripped his tie and used it as leverage to hold Ed’s attention, to keep his eyes forced on the others… As if Edward could ever look away from Oswald in such a moment. As if he would  _ want _ to!

“I---I don’t understand, Oswald---” Ed began to stammer as the man was so close and yet nowhere near as close as Edward might have liked. Was this it? Was this happening? Was Oswald going to kiss him? His mind was running through all likelihoods and possibilities and so he didn’t notice the icepick until it was pressing under his chin. 

“What kind of game are you running, Nygma?” The penguin growled and Edward was terrified-- a little aroused and oddly charmed by Oswald’s power-- but mostly terrified. “I got a note today from Tom…”

“T-tom?” He stammered, sincerely a little confused for a second because his mind was so caught up in processing the thick scent of Oswald’s cologne. And the many freckles that covered his nose and were so obvious when this close. 

“Officer DOUGHERTY.” He all but shouted in that terrifying, core shaking, tremble inducing tone. 

“O-oh… You got a note from him. Is he.. Is he unwell?” He asked, forcing lies. He had to lie. He had to feign innocence. And it was surprisingly easy to do because Oswald was who this was all for. If he messed that all up by being honest… He’d never forgive himself. 

“The note claims he left town. Claims he wants me to have fun. Maybe he’ll even call me when he gets back…” Oswald’s so very blue green eyes were fixed on Ed and narrowed in a way that weakened the tall man’s knees from intimidation. Amongst other things perhaps as well. Primarily though he felt genuine fear. Oswald could kill him if he found out. Perhaps he would kill him. In this moment he was so caught up in his love and sense of loss… Edward knew thats what this was. It wasn’t any real anger for Ed. It was the idea of losing Tom. But he couldn’t let that through. He acted innocent. He looked innocent. 

He almost wished he could be innocent. 

“I-I’m so sorry Oswald. I know how much he meant to you….” Edward manages the sentence almost genuinely. It is genuine in a way. In the same way he almost wishes for his innocence. Because Oswald looks so sad. And angry. And… And scared? He looks at Ed with this odd tremble of fear hidden inside his eyes and almost perhaps even disappointment. It hurts. It hurts to have Oswald look at him that way. And a part of him is sorry he caused him to feel this now. 

“Yes, well, interesting thing. The first letter of each line of his note spells out your name. Hell of a coincidence huh?” He spat, holding up the note where he had circled the letters almost like a word search. His red ink ran a line down the page and back up again and Ed felt his stomach knot up in immediate deep concern. 

Oh dear.

“I-- w-wow that is quite a coincidence.” Ed offered, wide eyes looking at the note and then back at Oswald, unassuming foolishness etched into his expression. He hesitated, thinking what the most nonchalant thing to say right now would be. He was trying to think of something. Anything. But all the lies wouldn’t seem to come to him in this moment when he needed them. His brilliant, quick mind was stalled and stammering. If only Oswald would stop looking at him like that! Like he had betrayed him. He wanted to shout at Oswald to STOP IT. Stop looking at him that way! He didn’t like it. He hated it. It was the worst kind of feeling because he had never loved anyone like this before, or maybe at all ever. But he loved Oswald. He loved him enough to kill for him. To do anything to protect him. He would continue to do anything for him. Always. So Oswald had no right to look so-- so… SO upset with him! It wasn’t fair! But he couldn’t tell him all of that. He was too scared and besides which, even if his fear of rejection wasn’t in the way, the knowledge that this was all still far too fresh for Oswald to respect the reasons for it yet, definitely was. So came his extended silence, of holding Oswald’s stare and smothering all his resentment over all the emotions behind the gaze. 

Finally Oswald let him go with a huff, seeming unsure and unable to tell for sure if Ed was lying or not. 

“Something isn’t right here, Edward. If you tell me now, I might spare you out of fondness for your company. But I highly advise against testing my charity.” He said tersely and huffed again, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek-- a strange habit that only seemed to come from rather grim considerations as Ed had noticed. He might have been imagining just how he would kill Edward in this moment. Being so fresh from his own kill… The idea did feel rather… Exciting, were he to be perfectly honest. 

How would Oswald kill him, he wondered? Gruesomely? Intimately? Would Ed be made an example of? Edward Nygma wondered if Oswald would do it with his bare hands. Would he feel the life leave Ed’s body? Watch the light as it faded from his eyes? Would he use a gun quickly? Or stab him more slowly? Perhaps even torture him until he slowly slipped away from life from the strain…? Edward blinked a few times at Oswald, eyes struggling to read the penguin in this moment. Finally, Ed considered what he should say. 

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Oswald… And I hope you know, I would never want to hurt you. I would do… anything for you.” He offered and for a moment the mobster frowned, not having expected that to be Ed’s answer. But Ed had little more he felt he could offer than that. And it was nothing short of heart felt. 

Oswald finally just turned away. 

“Please leave.” 

It would occur to Edward much later that it wasn’t all his fault Oswald was suspicious. The man had made his living and his livelihood here in Gotham on the fact no one could be trusted. Everyone lied. Everyone cheated each other. Betrayal was the single constant in a never ending storm of violence and misanthropy. Furthermore, no one ever really and sincerely seemed to appreciate Oswald. Not like Ed did. And so... It was natural to see Ed as someone clearly very suspicious. He asked for nothing, offered everything, and was always just around. Admiring Oswald. Complimenting him. Giving him presents.  It wasn’t that much of a surprise really to consider Oswald would think him less than genuine. 

If he were to be objective, Ed would even have to admit he wouldn’t expect any less. He would be disappointed in fact, if Oswald were more accepting and dim about believing this was all just one big coincidence. But Edward also was not an objective person. So all of this was buried somewhere in his mind beneath far too many layers for the man to really understand his own feelings even. All Ed could feel certain of was that things felt as though they were unravelling. 

He wanted to stay and object and defend himself and explain to Oswald why he was wrong to think like that. Wrong to believe Ed would ever do anything to hurt him-- but of course he had done something which clearly hurt Oswald quite badly. It had been Ed’s fault. His doing. He did it with plenty of forethought and meticulous planning, and furthermore he had done it with only Oswald in mind. He believed this would save him, but he also knew deep down he would be hurting him even more. And it was for this reason, his arguments died in his throat and his defense lay unspoken on his tongue.  

What could he really do except exactly as Oswald asked?

So Ed went away.

No. To be more accurate, Ed  _ ran _ away. Long limbs carrying him with big strides through the front of the club. He managed his way out the front door, cold evening air hit him hard, and only in the face of that did he realize how flushed he had been.  Ed’s mind was racing, and a sudden sharp right turn along 78th street landed him in an alleyway.

His back rested against a brick building. His hands moved up to press two fingers on either of his eyes beneath his glasses. He needed to think. What could he do? Oswald clearly was onto him. He knew Ed was involved, he knew…..

Ed found himself overcome suddenly by laughter. Hysterical laughter. The kind of laughter that echoed inside and outside of a person and was simultaneously so big and so empty.  It shook his whole body for a moment and he knew in the dim street light, madness was edging a take over inside of him. Then as suddenly as he began to laugh, he stopped. “Why are you laughing you fool? It’s not funny.” He scolded himself, his voice stern and full of anger and resentment. “He’ll keep digging….” His tone shifted suddenly into a rumble and almost immediately afterward, he roared out in frustration. “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE A CLUE? WHY?” He lunged forward as he shouted, his hands catching him against the brick wall opposite his initial leaning spot. His head dipped to hang down and he tried to calm his breathing.

His head swam with past voices. Dougherty. Oswald. Others. People who had mocked him, who had told him how odd or different he was. Flass calling him a perv. Gordon calling him strange. It had all been a part of it when he killed Dougherty. But where in the moment of euphoria, he felt like he was getting revenge on every last one of them-- now suddenly it was as if they had caught him. All of them. And they felt like they were right… It was like Edward had proved all those horrible mean things said about him right. No--- NO. He needed to calm down.

The worst of it all was his own voice. Angry. Gruff. It was this other part of himself. This other part that was so profoundly and utterly cruel. It rang in his ears. It was the part that wanted to cut Dougherty open and spread his entrails along the street side. It was the part that wanted to grab Oswald only moments ago and tell him that he owed Ed. Ed had done him a favor. It was the part that wanted to shove Oswald into a wall and kiss him because he deserved him. He deserved everything. Both the part of Ed which believed in his own superiority and yet also the part of him that was most critical of just how weak he could be. 

“Relax.” It beckoned softly and he couldn’t help but voice the notion aloud. 

“What can he find? What can he prove? Nothing.” He rambled his thoughts. “There’s no body. Stop worrying.” But then he looked up and over towards the night club, remembering the expression in Oswald’s eyes. The betrayal. “But he looks so sad and angry… I hate it when he looks at me like that.”  He swallowed roughly but soon enough that other part came right back at him, snapping in response. 

“Please!” It scoffed. “Like it matters. Like you stand a chance with him. He knows how you feel about him and he treats you like dirt.” The notion echoed in his head. 

Oswald was suspicious likely in part because Edward was always doing things for Oswald. But that did offer to light the fact Ed did so much and Oswald did nothing. Ever. Their friendship was only there because Edward followed after Oswald like some lost, insecure mewling kitten. Like he had nothing and no one else which might have been true but still. Oswald never did return any of the effort. Any of the work. 

“I don’t care I still love him.” He said decidedly. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t allowed to matter because the instant it mattered that Oswald didn’t love him back was the instant that all of this as on the verge of falling apart. 

“Oh listen to yourself!” He shouted and his fist hit the brick wall suddenly, “Be a man!” Then came more laughter. Softer and yet… Just as empty. Just as hollow. “You’ll do better with that one if he’s a little scared of you.” 

“STOP talking like that.” Ed growled in response. No. NO he would never think like that about Oswald. Oswald was beautiful and delicate and perfect and it… It wasn’t fair. No. NO it just wasn’t fair. He would never hurt him! Dougherty was different. One time. Violence in light of necessity, He’d never hurt Oswald. He’d never….

“Just keeping it real.” Ed gripped his head with both his hands, one set of his knuckles now bloody from his earlier outburst. The voices wouldn’t stop. All of them. They swirled around his head and filled his ears with phantom sound waves-- it engulfed the young man and it was impossible to even hear himself think. His real self. Not the… Not the other part. No, not the-- “What’s black and white and red all over?” It mocked him. Mocked Oswald. Mocked what they were supposed to have. What should be--- would be sacred. 

“STOP IT!” 

Edward demanded relief, but even he knew… This was just the beginning. 

(Art by the dazzling Lin_Rinku)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art as always is by Lin_Rinku my remarkably talented friend who actually said yes when I asked if he wanted to read ahead and collab to illustrate a chapter. Please check out their talent on tumblr @linrinkuarts.tumblr.com. Oh and while I am retaining the KingPinCobblepot blog on tumblr, I've moved myself over to a new blog. Check me out @Racheldadtaylor.tumblr.com. Send me prompts, ask me to write the things, tell me what your vibing in this AU. Guys I love writing the things so much. So do ittt.
> 
> As always, thank you for your support. Notice-- we have moved from 9 to 11 predicted chapters total. I'm changeable af. No judgement I hope. You guys are wonderful. Your kudos and comments as always sustain me. Never stop with them and never stop being your wonderful selves <3
> 
> Be prepared for next chapter in which Ed inadvertently wins his way back into Oswald's good graces. It is like this chapter, heavily divergent from source material, but ya'll my beta reader is so psyched about the planned plot. He says it's that good shit so be patient and I hope you'll all agree XD


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward finds himself on the outs with Oswald, and his Riddler self is growing stronger by the day. 
> 
> Bit of gore from Ed in this. Just his fantasies. He's a murderer now and so he thinks about murder cause it was really fun. Just be careful my loves. (:

The next few weeks were a blur. Edward’s routine remained the same, in spite of his clearly nonexistent chances with Oswald at this point. The criminal seemed unable or perhaps unwilling to look at Ed most of the time, but it didn’t stop the admirer from coming to the club each night still. It didn’t stop him from observing Oswald from his respectful distance and wondering-- imagining what Oswald must think of him. Why he wouldn’t glance this way. Why Ed even wanted him to when he knew, absolutely and unequivocally what kind of look it would be. He couldn’t help. Bad attention, even at its worst was still attention and it was the lack there of that was driving Edward mad. 

One day at the precinct, the madness peeked a little. 

He had been alone when it started. Just typical stuff, standing in the men’s locker room, glasses off and resting on the sink, splashing a little water on his face as he tried his best to ignore the vivid personification of his darkest self. Alive, speaking to him via his own reflection. It had become oddly commonplace at his apartment--- just there at first. But then slowly but surely… It became everywhere. Anytime he was alone. In this way, he never was really alone. 

But this particular occasion varied in that the imagined self didn’t shut up when someone else came in. Jim Gordon entered, changed his shirt from some unexplained stain that Edward had already clocked clearly as spilled coffee between 45 minutes and an hour old as it was still damp but already well into the staining process. Jim had intended to leave it clearly but was either called on it by Lee or someone of greater hierarchical authority than him… Or he had an important meeting he wanted to change for. Either way, the voice in his head that lived vicariously through his reflection in the mirror didn’t shut up. It kept berating Ed about how he needed to ditch his glasses and get contacts, until finally Ed hissed the word ‘SHHHH!” at him with nostrils flared and body trembling-- all arched over the sink and gripping either side with white knuckles. 

Jim noticed. 

Of course he just had to notice. 

They exchanged a few words and he thankfully left likely thinking Ed no stranger than he already believed the man to be. 

“He’s gone. Relax.” His mirrored self said and Ed started all the same for the vividness of the hallucination alone. “Holy moly!” The other Ed smirked. “Look at you. Everyone’s gonna think you’re going nuts.” 

“I-I get nervous when you talk to me with other people around.” He stammered, hands shaking as he motioned. The reflection made a particularly smug kind of expression and Ed snapped a little in that moment. “Stop doing that!”

“What?” It smirked. 

“That!” He insisted and shook his head a little in irritation. “Copying me.” 

“Dude, it’s a mirror. That’s how they work.” Ed huffed at this response and moved to begin thoroughly washing his hands. He wished it would shut up but he wasn’t anywhere near stupid enough to think it would. “Do you know what I think we need…?” It paused and Ed dared to let his soft brown eyes cast a lingering look up. “I think we need a little more fun.” Ed’s eyebrows furrowed just a fraction before his reflection added. “Some romance.” His reflection suavely adjusted his hair and Ed tensed up instantly-- standing straight with a determined look. 

“Stop. I know where this is going.” He turned off the water and reached for paper towels. “I told you. Leave Mr. Cobblepot alone.” Edward had a particularly firm tone. He meant it. He would never subject Oswald to this… clearly worst version of himself. Or perhaps it was the best? Perhaps that was in equal measure why Ed feared Oswald ever seeing it. Because when he saw that version of Ed… How could he ever want the man he really was?

Either way, Edward feared more than anything the day Oswald ever had to meet the darkness inside of him. Maybe their distance was better. Maybe it was the only way to save him. That was after all the primary concern of Edward Nygma wasn’t it? Keeping Mr. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot-- criminal of high rank and known by his inferiors as Mr. Penguin… Keeping him safe. 

“Imagine him in our arms.” He smirked at Ed, that quasi-stranger in the mirror seemed to be fantasizing about just that and it was impossible-- as he was a part of Ed-- that Ed not likewise be imagining just the same. 

For the briefest of moments, Ed can see it.

And it’s everything. 

For a single-- less than a second of time, he can really see it. His hands on the small of his back, feeling Oswald wrapped in his embrace. Those often violent, aggressive hands of the criminal’s made tender for once and resting on Ed’s shoulders. Oswald so soft. So supple. So pliant beneath his touch and just the right pressure of body to body. Just enough touching so that it’s almost too much to bear and yet leaves everything to be desired all at once. It’s overwhelming and intimate and Oswald looks at him with those eyes. Eyes he could just drown in if he allowed himself to. So blue and so green and all at once they are everything and they are nothing. Just a piece of Oswald. A small piece that allows Ed a chance to see inside him. To see that well kept, oft hidden beauty that Oswald never lets anyone see. But Ed sees it. Ed sees him and he always has, and for this tiny little breathless moment, it flashes in his mind. 

But it wouldn’t be him. It wouldn’t be Ed. It would be this other part of him. This awful part of him. This part who hates gentility, who resents all the things about Ed that make him perfect for Oswald. And that’s when the single tiny eternity of hope ends. Because it wouldn’t be him holding Oswald. It would be  _ him _ . 

And Ed won’t ALLOW it. 

“Those big eyes looking up at us, and the soft, trembling flesh.” His reflection iterates the thoughts which had already passed through their mind, and Edward can’t remember how to restrain himself. Perhaps he doesn’t even try. 

“BE QUIET!” He shouts. His voice resounds through the locker room, and in slight embarrassment over the outburst, he grabs his glasses and hurries away. As if he can leave the physical manifestation of his own darkness behind him so easily. 

\---

That night Ed almost didn’t go to the club. 

_ Almost. _

The truth is his alternative is a lonely night at home with no one but his other self as company. At least with a little alcohol and perhaps a friendly bit of chit chat here or there… Well, it feels like friendly anything is a stretch. But silence for him even would be nice, with the titter of other chatter around him. Silence inside his head-- some much deserved and well earned vacation time for the voices who took such delight in his misery. This was better than anything else could have been. This was better than just being with himself. Some small voice inside of him echoed that if he didn’t even like being alone with himself anymore, he truly was without anyone anymore and didn’t deserve to expect anyone else to like him. He choice to ignore that voice. 

He would later discover how very glad he was that he did indeed come to the club. As Oswald was not currently present, but a woman he recognized well as his mother was. She had sang here before months ago, and no one really liked the entertainment value, but Oswald hadn’t given them the chance to care. She rarely came around though, so Edward could hardly help but to notice her. Besides which, she wasn’t exactly a run of the mill, ordinary looking sort of person. She was as unique as her son. He spotted her immediately, and wondered why she was here-- particularly as Oswald was evidently not. And with Don Maroni at that. They sat at a table together, speaking with soft smiles and in hushed tones. 

Was that…. No it couldn’t be...

And yet it seemed so very like…

_ Flirting?  _

Edward of course new rather embarrassingly little about the act when performed properly, but all the same, he could tell something was happening between them, and was certain it couldn’t be anything good. It wasn’t his place to eavesdrop, and yet he worried about her. For Oswald’s sake. He clearly adored the woman. While the concept of a loving and adoring mother was particularly foreign to Ed, it wasn’t as if he didn’t understand some people did love their mothers. Some mothers loved their children. Some mothers were devoted. Nurturing. Affectionate. Some mothers, rare though they might seem to his estimation, were like Gertrud. 

Edward watched them for a long while as they talked and he poured her glasses of wine. Edward had watched the bartender bring the bottle from under the bar and couldn’t clock the man as anything short of the normal routine of someone who worked there often. He had certainly seen him there  before. And the bottle was freshly opened. He couldn’t see signs of tampering from where he sat, but certainly believed the bartender would need a death wish to do anything so stupid here and now. Maroni just the same. So what was the mob boss’s angle? Ed wondered.

Oswald came in as Ed pondered and seemed as utterly befuddled and slightly full of chagrin at the notion of the two being so close and acting so intimate. He tried to escort her away, and yet Maroni insisted he not take away  _ his _ Gertrud. It was said in a way that made Ed’s stomach turn and made bile rise in his throat. Certainly the Don was better than that. Better than to try and use Oswald’s poor, dear mother against him. No. Surely, he was better than that. Surely. 

_ Surely,  _ he thought.

By this point, Ed was fully listening in on the entirety of what they were saying, and if he believed Maroni to be better than that, well he was easily entirely wrong. The things Maroni said, the way he spoke to Gertrud. Calling her stupid. Insinuating that Oswald was some monster. A freak. A villain of some description, as if the Don had hands clean enough to offer such a judgement to another person…. Edward felt fury build inside of him. Oswald held his mother as she fainted, and while the forensic scientist wanted to follow Maroni and kill him then and there for causing such undo stress---

Oh and how satisfying that would be. Maroni wouldn’t even be expecting it. Wouldn’t even notice Ed. He could use his switchblade, bump into the Don on the street side or in one of his own bars-- perhaps even in the mens room of the establishment. And promptly, without prejudice, slit his throat. Blood would go everywhere, and Ed could still remember just how warm it felt fresh from an artery. It would leave speckles and spurts over his skin and clothes… He’d have to wash one of the toughest gangsters in this city off of his sweater by hand but it would be well worth it. Perhaps he could cut off his head and bring to Oswald. Like the Egyptians offering Pompey’s head to Julius Caesar when he entered Alexandria for the first time. King Ptolemy XIII had it awaiting him in a hand woven basket, Ed recalled. A gift from the boy king, and yet more truthfully his advisers-- a gift for the man. For Caesar it had been a disgusting display of disrespect, lower than low and unbefitting a man who had once been his friend. But for Maroni… For Maroni, it was just low enough. Ed wondered if he could find an appropriately sized basket? Perhaps he could use his picnic basket. Oh how delightful that mental image was. To think of bringing the basket along to Oswald’s office, and see him thinking Ed offering some silly-- stupid-- foolish attempt at bonding. At being friends again. A picnic of all things after the paranoia and suspicion Oswald offered to him… After the justified and rightful sense of fear and concern and distrust he held for Ed, the very idea that the man would bring Oswald a picnic would be laughable. 

Oh but his face, when Edward took it out of the basket. The Don’s head all bloody and pale. Just for Oswald. What more could Ed offer? What further gift could he give than that. Just for him. Because he loved him more than anything else he’d ever known and he wanted Oswald to know he wasn’t just to be trusted, but he was to be believed when he said he’d do anything for the criminal. That was sincere. That was utterly genuine. That was the truth. 

Ed wanted to follow Maroni out, and fulfill his every fantasy about harming the man.  But unfortunately, he could do little more than stand and approach the table as he left. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was wisdom, perhaps it was just self preservation or a desire to allow Oswald to handle the matter as he saw fit-- but Ed didn’t give into his impulses nearly so easily. Instead he remained nearly stock still as he found himself next to the table where Oswald cradled his mother against him and looked to be struggling with just what to in this moment with the unconscious woman. 

“Can I--- Oswald, if you’d let me, I’d like to maybe help?” Ed offered softly, eyes staring at the ground as he felt certain his offer would be rejected. His face all but lit up when Oswald spoke not to say no, but instead to offer a simple order instead, 

“Help me get her out front I have a car on stand by. She doesn’t need to be seen here in this state.” His tone was so full of worry and concern-- and a deeply vengeful sort of wrath which had been awakened by Maroni. 

Edward had to resist the smile that tugged at his lips.

Oswald was so wonderfully violent when he wanted to be and Ed’s mind was already running through what fantasies of revenge the penguin might be planning for the crime boss, as he was helping Oswald carry his mother towards the entrance of the club. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! Two chapters in one day.
> 
> I felt bad about those few days I didn't post anything. You guys need the things! Plus I'll always post when I finish chapters immediately because I'm terrible with self control.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are feels. Just like a lot of them. Be prepared for the feels. Embrace the feels, my loves.

Edward helps Oswald as he escorts her out and into the car, fully prepared to be asked to leave there after. But Oswald doesn’t. He looks… He looks almost grateful to Ed? As if the man had helped him and it mattered in some small way. Very small though it would be, it still felt as though it counted all the same. Ed could almost see the instant Oswald decided to ask him. He could see it in his eyes. It was one of those moments that could be felt everywhere for the taller man, a moment which marked a turning point in his life-- a moment which could maybe someday, in a way which takes ages to track back and which is very much as indirect as possible, change his life. 

“Ed, please come with us back to the apartment to help carry her upstairs.” Oswald looked at him not with a question, but with the knowledge that Ed would do it. He didn’t have to ask, but rather only needed give permission. 

Now, Ed could have easily considered that he was available in the moment and an easy choice because as he had demonstrated on so many occasions, he would answer Oswald’s beckoning calls without the slightest hesitation. He could have rationalized that Oswald only asked because he didn’t need to worry about Ed using the opportunity against him, as unlike everyone else the Penguin knew in any real capacity, he wasn’t He was a doormat for the man, and were he to allow his less than ideal self  be heard as it echoed around him? Then he might well have refused to help. Or at the very least not looked like such a desperately thrilled to assist him. 

But Edward was… Well, Edward. 

And his face lit up with excited joy at the prospect of  being allowed any such privilege of proximity towards Oswald. And of course there was the fact Oswald was trusting him with being so close. Not only that… No, but what about the fact that Oswald was asking him to go back to his home. To help him with his mother. He had a dozen paid lackeys around for the job, but he trusted Edward with it. It had to mean something. Ed knew it did, or at least his more trusting, infatuated side did. So he immediately got into the town car next to Oswald and his mother. He sat shoulder to shoulder with the criminal he adored so much. Close enough to smell him. Ed could have said it wasn’t able to be helped, but he never even tried to avoid it. Instead, he turned his head a little. Just the right angle to take a long inhale of Oswald’s scent as if he were taking a drag of some sort of narcotic. In a way, maybe he was. 

He happened to catch Oswald’s eyes and immediately looked away. He shouldn’t have done it, even if it was completely worth it. His footing with Oswald was so tentative, so unsure-- he hated the idea of risking it. Under any circumstances. His fingers flexed into his own thigh as he watched through his peripheral vision the way Oswald cradled his mother against his shoulder, shushing her and kissing her head. He was such a kind and loving person. So gentle. So beautiful. 

He was so caught up in watching Oswald while also distinctly NOT watching Oswald that the car screeching to it’s halt outside of the apartment building startled him a little. He was so surprised, he didn’t even realize his job was to open the door and get out until Oswald was left glaring at him a little. “Oh… Sorry…” he muttered after a moment of staring back when he realized what he was meant to be doing. 

He helped Oswald get Gertrud out of the car, but she awoke somewhere in the midst of carrying her up the stairs, and startled the pair of them as well as herself. 

“Oh Oswald, my darling Oswald, what happened?” She asked, leaning her head over against his shoulder. He frowned heavily and as he motioned for Ed to take the keys from him to go on up and get the door. 

“Nothing mother. I’m afraid you had a little too much to drink.” he muttered and ushered her into the apartment as Ed opened the door. “Please sit. I’ll make you some tea.” Ed could see in Oswald’s eyes that a part of him wanted away from her. That in this moment the penguin feared closeness to his beloved mother. He didn’t want her to see in his eyes… His true and genuine terror of her knowing the full truth. Of her discovering just where her love for him ended. It was a valid fear, Edward thought. He knew how much it hurt to see that look of distrust and disappointment when Oswald looked at him. He imagined it a similar sort of feeling for the man and his mother. 

He decided to help by sitting down beside the woman. A respectful distance kept, and a soft smile on his lips, he offered his best for of introduction. “Hello, Mrs. Cobblepot. I… My name is Edward Nygma. I’m a friend of your son’s.” He offered gently. 

“Hello, Edward. Thank you for helping to escort me here. I fear… I am not such good company right now.” She sighed and looked down at the floor. Some look of irritation played in her eyes but never quite reached the naive like features of her facial expression. As if she couldn’t truly be as mad as she wanted to be. “Tell me, Edward, are you a police officer like those other men my son runs around with? Are you one of the lying pigs like them?” She asked, her eyes suddenly on him as she spit to the side with vehemence. Gertrud certainly could be direct when she wanted to be. 

Oswald did have to get it from somewhere. 

“I-- No, goodness no. I’m a scientist.” And he was. He omitted the part about working for the GCPD. He felt it best in the moment. 

“Ah.” She nodded a little and leaned in closer towards him. “You are a smart man then? A smart man who knows my Oswald well?” 

“Y-yes. I like to think I know him as well as I can. Given the nature of our… I mean we are good friends… I mean, I like to think we’re good friends. He’s my good friend, that is to say. Not that I don’t think he feels fondness for me in return, but I--” He could have kept rambling for at least twenty minutes and was endlessly grateful for Gertrud interrupting. 

“Is he really… Has he done all those things that man, that Maroni man has said? Has Oswald done things he should not?” She asked, reaching out to grip Ed’s hand desperately. She wanted to know. She had a right to know. Ed could see it etched into her face though just how hard and unfair the truth would be for her. 

“Oswald is… A very exceptional sort of person, Mrs. Cobblepot. He’s not like you or I… He’s different. Special. And he has a job which he enjoys doing and is very good at. I think that being such an exceptional person though… I think it’s difficult for him to live with sometimes. It keeps him from having people around him who can understand him and love him and who he can trust. He has you Mrs. Cobblepot though. He has you and he wants nothing more than to make you proud. Anything he has done, and I don’t pretend to know what it might have been-- but anything it might have been--- ANYTHING he might have done… He did it because he had to. Because it was the best way to keep himself safe. And you safe. And to keep safe what it is he’s trying to do. And even if there are cases where that isn’t true, he’s still just such a remarkable person, Mrs. Cobblepot… I don’t think it’s fair to hold things against him that are a part of him. He’s just so….  _ Beautiful _ .” He whispered the last word, having realized he was once again rambling. His eyes fixated on the carpet as he tried to will away the blush that colored his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to say all of that. It just came spilling out. Were she anyone else, perhaps he’d have killed her to preserve the privacy of his most intimate thoughts, but the notion doesn’t cross his mind. 

She’s Oswald’s mother. 

Maybe that’s why the words came so easily. Because she is the only person in the whole world whom Edward can feel certain will relate to him and understand. She’s not like Jim Gordon or the others of his coworkers who would call Oswald a criminal and not believe he had any further depth. She wasn’t like Flass or Dougherty who just wanted to use Oswald. She knew him and saw him and understood him…. Just like Ed did. 

He was expecting her to do maybe anything other than what she did. Genuinely, a million possibilities raced through his mind including a potential physical altercation-- all of which came well before he even vaguely would have considered what she actually did. 

Gertrud Cobblepot suddenly embraced Ed in such a tight, warm, incredibly desperate kind of hug. The sort of hug Ed wasn’t certain anyone had ever given him. She clung to him for a moment before pulling back and touching his face, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“You are good boy to love my son so well, Mr. Nygma. You are a very good boy.”  She smiled, tears sparkling in her eyes. 

Ed could have broken down into tears there and then himself. 

But then he saw him, and the smile he hadn’t even been aware of until now fell from his face. A freshy flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks. Oh dear. 

Just over Gertrud’s shoulder Edward could see Oswald standing with tea in hand and eyes wide. How much he had heard--- well, Ed didn’t want to find out. He felt enough humiliation. Right now, he wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere else. He politely pulled away from Gertrud. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Cobblepot-- I should leave you and your son to talk. You seem to need that.” He smiled a forced kind of polite smile and stood, heading for the door.

“Ed, wait!” Oswald followed after him, tea still in hand. “I… I want to repay you for your assistance this evening.. I… Let me pay you or call a cab for your way home at least.” His eyes were more blue than Ed had ever seen them before. It was probably the lighting. But it didn’t matter. They seemed so wide and endless and he looked at Ed for the first time since they met with a genuine kind of earnestness. Like he trusted him. Like he believed in him or something. Like for the first time in Ed’s entire life someone believed he was more than just… Ed. 

“N-no, really, Mr. Cobblepot--” he began to stammer.

“Oswald.” Came the simple and automatic correction. 

“Oswald, I… I couldn't take anything from you. We’re friends. This is what friends do.” His tone was soft-- afraid to startle away the moment. This moment. With Oswald looking up at him like that. Lost in one another’s gaze. “I should go.” he said softly and finally Oswald was the one to nod softly and move away, heading back to his mother. 

Ed couldn’t stop smiling all the way home or the rest of the night. 

\---

The next night, Ed was back at the club like always. His same spot. A deep blue sweater today with a soft grey tie. He thought he would mix it up a little tonight. His leg fidgeted a little, like an addict just edging against jonesing for a fix. And in many ways he was. This was it. He and his alter ego had discussed it at length and had agreed that tonight was perfect. Last night he got to be Oswald’s hero, and now he was there and the timing was perfect. No silly boyfriends to get in the way and what’s more, Oswald had looked at him so… so… Well, so much like he really did care about him. No one had ever even vaguely looked at Ed like… 

The forensic scientist shook his head. There was no point in even trying to compare Oswald to anyone else he had met. Oswald was special. Oswald understood him. In this deep, soulful sort of kindred spirit way. Even if Oswald didn’t realize it himself yet. So here he was. Ready to ask the question. Ready to take the plunge. 

It was made easier still when Oswald sought him out through the crowd only moments after sitting. “Your drinks are free tonight, friend.” He said softly and rested a hand on Eds arm as he moved close to him with a warm greeting. “The least I can do.” He still had that look. That… Too good to be true sort of look. Ed looked at the hand and back at Oswald. A smile spread over his face. 

“How’s your day going?” He offered. 

_ No you idiot. Not the right question--- I’ll get to it. You can’t just jump into a proposition. It needs to feel natural-- As if the glacial pace of your adoration isn’t enough of a lead up.-- SHUT UP.  _

Inside his head he argued with himself. That hand of Oswalds flexed over his arm as Oswald laughed a little, glancing around at the busy club and then back to Ed. It was grounding. It pulled him back from his own mind, and reminded him of what was happening. Of where he was and what was real.

“Significantly improved by your company, old friend.” He smiled at Ed lifting his brows this microscopic amount. His hand also remained on Ed’s arm. Ed looked at it for a moment. Was that look meant to be flirtatious? And what about all this touching? It was nice, but what did it mean? Was this what flirting was? His inner self screamed to ask now. RIGHT NOW. No more waiting. No more time. ASK. 

“Um, question for you.” Ed offered, looking back into Oswald’s eyes. 

“Y-yes?” He asked, looking a little different. Was it-- maybe that was hopeful. 

Okay here it was. His chance. He just had to ask. Oswald would say yes as long as he asked. He opened his mouth but for a second-- nothing came at all. He was rendered mute by his own fear. His own anxiety. He could say nothing. Words dried up in his throat and syllables twisted around his tongue. Oh god this was too embarrassing for words. Say SOMETHING. Anything at this point. JUST SAY SOMETHING.

“Did you know houseflies hum in the key of F?”

Oh dear. 

No, perhaps not just ANYTHING at all in this moment. 

“No.” Oswald sighed softly and cleared his throat, his face falling now. “No I-I did not know that.” He removed his hand from Ed and looked down to the carpet. 

“Okay then.” He said and then there was the longest silence in history to ever be felt that settled between them. An eternity of pain and misery and self loathing squeezed into the few seconds before Oswald made an excuse and Ed managed a quiet goodbye as he walked away. He had his chance. He was so close… But he just… He couldn’t even begin to understand the problem. WHY didn’t he just ask? Why didn’t he just… 

But he had spent so much time. Years of his life spent loving Oswald from afar. Loving him so much it hurt. Loving him so much Edward ached inside with an emptiness that felt boundless. And to present himself for rejection… To offer up to Oswald his unabashed heart to use as he would like so closely, so intimately in the form of an actual date. It was so petrifying. 

Maybe it would be better if Oswald just remained a fantasy. At least then Edward could keep that familiar ache and not risk trading it in for proper, practical heartbreak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who reads this. To everyone who likes it. To everyone who comments...
> 
> I say this on other works, but I have such mad anxiety about actually answering you guys directly. It takes all my courage to post here. But please just know how much your support means to me. It's just so... Incredibly awe inspiring how kind you all are and the way you respond to my writing. Please know I adore each and everyone of you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minichapter! Because once again the next scene is likely going to need a whole chapter. Enjoy Ed facing his fears.

“Damn it.” He cursed once he was alone. “We agreed you were going to ask him out.” He muttered to himself with his hands jammed in his trouser pockets as he was headed home at the end of the evening. He scuffed his shoe against the ground a little. “We didn’t agree to ask him. We agreed to think about asking him.” He countered, still mumbling to himself as he walked. “But there’s no point anyway. He doesn’t like you.” 

As he spoke, he passed a shadowy ally and out stepped of course, his worst of nightmares.  The personified darkness inside him. His other self. Oh how he hated him and of course, the feeling was fully mutual.

“Maybe he’ll like me. You ever consider that? Maybe he’ll like me.” He walked just behind Edward, who gave a disgusted look just over his shoulder. “I got confidence. Guys love that.” He smirked. It brushed syllables against the one of the greater anxieties inside of Ed. But he can’t admit that. He can’t admit anything. So instead he denies it. He denies it as childishly and adamantly as he can-- clinging verbally and internally to what he wanted to be the truth. What he NEEDED to be the truth. 

“No, he won’t like you. He won’t. Go away….” He glared over his shoulder at the vision which continued to smirk at him. “Please just go away!” He shouted and spun on heel to confront his own self, only for the man to vanish. Instead, there was a concerned and confused stranger walking a few paces behind him who scurried past as Ed made his unbalanced nature more obvious than he ever wanted. Why did things have to be this way? Why couldn’t he be more brave. Why couldn’t he have just asked? 

He considered this over the next few days and actually held some distance from the club, only going for one drink to see Oswald and make a small amount of eye contact, with a touch of polite conversation before excusing himself and heading straight home. Everyday he had the same thoughts, the same longing. He tried to build up his courage. He tried to make himself finally go for it because his own rationality for the irrational rejection phobia he was nursing was ridiculous. He was a logical man. He could do this surely. It was dinner. One dinner. He leaned against his desk one afternoon, making eye contact with a skeleton but trying to imagine it was Oswald. Certainly he could imagine that. Perhaps that would help. To have a prop. He always got scared when face to face with Oswald because he never practiced face to face with anything. Now was his chance. 

Perhaps he could even practice without the appearance of his far too common alter ego, always insulting him and always advising him to be the worst version of himself.

The worst part of him was that sometimes Ed wondered if his advice was to be the worst… Perhaps he had a point. Perhaps he wanted Ed to be his best self… Edward never allowed himself the chance to dwell too much on the contrary nature of his internal psyche. There were too many more important and less terrifying things to consider. Like asking out Oswald. Well, it was more important at least. Even if equally terrifying. 

“Oswald, ever since I first laid eyes on you, I've felt this deep connection.” Ed cleared his throat and made a small hand gesture towards the skeleton. “Perhaps you've felt it, too?” He hesitated and gave a small  _ ‘ugh’ _ of frustration before rubbing his fingers against his eyes beneath the lenses of his glasses. “How cheesy….’ He needed something less cliche. Less generic.  “Mister Cobblepot, you've perhaps felt my affections from afar…” Even as he held out his hand in an impulsive gesture for the word, he rolled his eyes at himself. “  _ ‘Afar?’ _ Really? Oh, God.” He sighed heavily and swallowed. Try again. “Oswald---” He froze for a moment, searching for just the right words, and in this moment, a familiar sort of wry laughter joined Ed from the corner of his office. 

Of course he was here.

So much for doing this without him. 

“Be quiet.” He grumbled at him. “I don’t need your opinion.” He refused to look at the other version of him. Partly because he wasn’t real, but mostly because he knew that version was still him. Which meant attention was all he was after. And by ignoring him and refusing him the attention he craved, Ed knew he could irritate him. Just as being ignored always irritated Edward himself. In short, he tried to ignore him both because he was  **_just_ ** a figment of Ed’s imagination, and also because he was just a figment of  **_Ed’s_ ** imagination. 

“What you need is to stop mumbling and fumbling and tell him what's up!” Retorted the hallucination as he moved around to Ed’s peripheral where he could no longer be ignored in any capacity. 

“Well, he’s been bullied and taken for granted for too long.” Came the response as he finally turned to look at the other him. He believed his words. He believed them so sincerely. No one had ever loved Oswald as he deserved, because no one had ever loved him as Edward did. He would show him. He would make sure he understood. He had to make sure he understood that he respected and admired and adored the man. “And I want him to understand--” He tried to explain to his self. 

But the other self wouldn’t listen. 

“You saved him from that gorilla! For God’s sake!” He shouted at Ed, and then smirked a little. “Because he deserves the best. He deserves you…  _ Us. _ ’ He smirked a little and Ed saw it in the other version of him-- in his eyes. He was right. If he was ever going to stand a chance of Oswald having that well guarded love he wanted so badly to give him-- if he wanted the man to be as happy as he aspired to help make him, then he had to ask. He had to…

He grabbed his phone and pulled up Oswald’s number. He had only ever responded to the other  man’s texts-- which were almost always confirming a lunch date or sometimes cancelling. Their friendship laid out in a series of texts which were always initiated by Oswald and immediately answered by Ed. Now here was the plunge. He would text first. 

And he would ask him out. 

He settled for simple, as he considered the possibilities. His heart thundered in his ears when he sent the far more confident than he actually was text message. 

             [Sent] Oswald, dinner tonight. 

He sent it at first by itself and then immediately followed up with another. 

             [Sent] Chez Moi. 805 Grundy. 8 O’Clock.

When he sent that one suddenly it settled into his stomach that it had been almost a full minute since he sent the first one. Oswald hadn’t responded. Oh no. He had been too forceful. He hadn’t even asked. Oh Oswald was going to be so-- 

His phone buzzed. 

Ed dared to look after a moment of just staring at thing in his hand. He…. He didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer. But of course, he couldn’t not know. He had to know. Schrodinger’s cat could never exist for Edward Nygma because any possibility in between certainties doesn’t have a right answer when questioned. Ed lived for right answers. Ed’s life was composed of right answers.

So he had to know. 

             [Received]  Okay. I’d like that. 

Ed smirked wide and licked his lips. There it was. His grin seemed endless in this moment, as it reached a true step of happiness Ed wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. Was this joy? Like honest joy. The kind of joy which came without shame or mockery or in secret. Was this what is was to be normal? To have some small piece of normalcy to work so well in your favor for once in your miserable life? He stared at the text, reading it again and again and imagining how Oswald would say it.

He liked the idea of him being in his club. Maybe in a meeting. Maybe better yet being approached by some other behemoth. Some man like Dougherty. Like Flass. Too tall, too rugged, far too masculine in that charmless sort of way. A man who would have mocked Edward given half a chance, a man who sought a chance with Oswald. But oh, no. No, Oswald had better options. He had Edward. And so just as the stranger offered to take him out for the evening, he had the oh so satisfying response that he was already taken. 

Oswald already had a date. 

_ ‘I’d like that.’ _

“You will.” Ed mumbled, still smiling ear to ear as he moved to gather up his files from work and actually at least pretend to focus on his tasks at hand. Pretending being the operative word. He was barely paying attention as he filled out Lee’s paperwork. No, he was busy planning what to make for dinner.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally my loves! He got his date. Now, just wait and see what comes next.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date has been made, but my lovelies-- will it be kept?

Oswald kept glancing at his watch. This was taking longer than he would have liked. Edward had said dinner at eight, and the criminal mastermind had fully intended to manage just that. But of course, it was easier said than done. Between planning the most appropriate sort of revenge on  Maroni, which took a good deal of tact, and delicacy, and managing his normal holdings with the club and ensuring he could indeed take a night off without consequence-- well, it had been a busy day. For the Don, Oswald had something very special in mind. he wanted to get across to the other criminal just what it meant to try and interfere with Oswald’s personal affairs. He had sent his mother flowers only that very morning, and while Oswald had killed the man on sight, it wasn’t enough. Killing one of Salvatore Maroni’s goons wasn’t nearly an effective enough message as to the gravity of the situation in which Oswald found himself. And so he had to do more. Victor was of course as helpful as ever, which was as grossly insufficient as always. He was never as useful as Oswald needed. No, he needed too much direction, or he tended to… meander on the minor details. It was too tempting to sever the man’s head and use it as a jaunty ventriloquist act.

This was not the _tactful_ version of a warning that Oswald had in mind. No Oswald had something very specific in mind. At this point there was only thing which could ever manage the control of the situation between them. Only one real end in sight.

War.

And planning a war was messy, difficult work. Luckily, it required skills by which Oswald came quite naturally. It was in his blood. The lust for power, the eye for control, the detail oriented considerations… All well within his skills and abilities. But of course, all of this precision had to occur simultaneously as he continued business as normal.

It was in fact as he was conducting normal business by taking care of a snitch that Oswald got Edward’s text. He had to take off his gloves to check it and even blushed a little as he wrote his reply. Of course he wanted to go to dinner. He’d wanted to go to dinner since the night with his mother. Since before that even, probably. But before where it had been a soft longing which Oswald refused to allow himself to truly acknowledge. Because he couldn’t have that weakness, and furthermore, he couldn’t feel that kind of love.

He never had before. No one had ever been kind to him. But there was something about Ed. Something so beautiful and pure, and the way he had spoken so gently and so sincerely to Gertrud just the other day had Oswald’s knees weak for him. In fact every night since that one, he had sort of been angling for Ed to ask him out. Finally here they were.

He said yes as soon as he got past his initial surprise and managed to hand off his gloves and the blood spattered crowbar to one of his men. Eight. That should work just fine. Probably. Edward didn’t ask, which was odd for him. He was usually so considerate. But Oswald tried not to dwell. If being extra assertive for a moment was what it took for the man to finally make a definitive move so the criminal could respond in kind, well he’d accept it. He would make eight o clock work.

Sometimes, Oswald had considered asking him out. But that was a difficult position to be in. As  a man of power, Oswald was not exactly equipped to be a fair person to initiate any sort of romantic attachment. With men like those of his past it was a more balanced dynamic. Oswald was no more powerful than them directly or at the very least, they never seemed to think he was. Edward was different. Edward was so smart, and sweet, but he was also meek. Quiet. Reserved. Ed wasn’t a man of means, he wasn’t a man of situation or position. Oswald was a well known criminal with a less than sparkling record and if Ed felt Oswald wanted him-- well, he might not feel he had a full choice in the matter. Oswald couldn’t ask him to pursue anything. He couldn’t initiate any of it. Because in the end, Edward shouldn’t feel pressured into agreeing to any such arrangement. Should he desire Oswald’s company in a more romantic light? Well, that was his to accomplish.

Oswald was just grateful he had finally taken the myriad of hints and gotten the nerve to make that oh so elusive move to ask. It was a sincere privilege to say yes, and he intended to tell him as much. Tonight. When he arrived for their date.

Whenever that might be.

He looked at his watch once more and felt certain he would be late. But he was in the process of laying the foundations of true anarchy. Chaos abound. Order-less fury and in the name of that-- in the name of watching the duel organizations of Gotham crumble at his will and destroy one another along the way… Oswald would delight in being the one to consolidate and rebuild a new empire-- a new era. HIS era.

 

\---

 

At exactly five minutes until 8 O’Clock, Edward Nygma was plating his dinner. He had cooked the most beautiful lamb shanks, spiced with garlic and thyme. Drizzled with a red wine sauce and served with a side of oven baked potatoes and carrots. Dessert was perfectly executed creme brulee topped with gelatin, perfectly shaped into little balls on top and flavored with a slightly tart sort of taste to offset the caramelization atop the dish. He had been working on cooking for the last three hours, before which he had spent two hours getting ready-- during which he showered twice, styled his hair, and tried on three different sweaters. He just wanted everything to be perfect, and there were so many decisions to make. From what cologne to wear to what music to have playing when Oswald entered, Edward would leave no part of the atmosphere to chance. This was all about sealing his destiny with Oswald.

The first fifteen minutes of waiting, Ed sat on his sofa and anxiously watched the door. He imagined what suit Oswald might wear. He imagined what he would say in greeting. How would he do his hair? A million little pieces of Oswald’s individuality worked together to pan out in Ed’s excited and anxious mind, fantasizing every manner of welcome he could offer the other man. And after half an hour, Edward began to pace, thinking perhaps he had over thought. He didn’t want to seem rehearsed. No, that wouldn’t work. It was until Oswald was an hour late, that Ed began to feel… Desolate. And angry. He had been stood up. Why would Oswald do that? Why would he say yes and then cancel? His other self was in the corner berating him for being so stupid as to actually think he stood a  chance. Maybe Oswald hadn’t even gotten the text. Maybe someone intercepted his phone and sent the message of yes. Maybe this was some mean spirited gag from Oswald’s newest boyfriend. Ed’s mind raced as he blew out the candles after an hour and a half of waiting, and began to cover the meal to be put away. He wasn’t hungry tonight. His appetite was lost to his sense of lingering rejection and deep, profound disappointment. He felt like a little boy, like when he had been let down by his father as he had been only on the rare occasions he allowed himself hope. Edward hadn’t been this excited over anything since back in those days of innocent joy-- the days when he believed still perhaps life might turn out perfect one day.

“You really thought someone like you had a chance with him?” His hallucination mocked him and Ed slammed his hands down on the kitchen counter top. It wasn’t fair. He had been so ready for this-- he had spent hours preparing. He hadn’t let himself feel this in so long-- he hadn’t let himself WANT anything in so long...

Harsh realities had almost entirely stripped away that kind of hope from him.

And this finally was pulling away the final layer inside him of believing maybe just maybe something good could happen for him-- like old paint being peeled off a wall.  

Just as he was about to throw his creme brulee down the garbage disposal, there was a knock at the door and Ed’s eyes lit up immediately as he looked to the door. It was an hour and forty five minutes from the time he and Oswald had said. He hesitated, wondering if that too was in his imagination. Maybe he had finally lost his mind. That poem by Edgar Allan Poe came to mind as he stared at the now silent door. Had he imagined the knocking?

_Here I opened wide the door_

_Darkness there and nothing more._

_Deep into the darkness peering,_

_Long I stood there, wondering-- fearing,_

_Doubting. Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before._

 

That verse rested in his mind and he half feared opening the door for a moment. His own mind had been so angry, so vehement. It was such a thick possibility that there was nothing and no one out there and Ed’s sickness had taken a new avenue of taking over. He was so unsure-- so doubtful… So upset still… But then there came another knock. And another.

“Edward? A-are you in there? It… It’s me. I’m sorry I’m so late. Something came up.”

Ed wasn’t sure when he forgave Oswald. If it was the instant he said his name or when he actually apologized. For the sake of his self respect, he liked to believe it was the latter-- but were he to be fully honest, he isn’t sure he needed anything more than Oswald’s voice outside his door to forgive his profound lateness. Even if it had Ed spiraling. His hallucination self has vanished and it’s just Ed there, with dessert clutched in his hands. He sets it down and hits the record player to restart as he heads for the door. A single moment to straighten his red sweater and his tie and he opens the door with a smile.

“O-Oswald….” His voice catches just a little. But he steadies himself. He won’t let their evening be ruined by his own anxieties. “I was afraid you couldn’t make it.” Ed offers, still smiling brightly at him.

“I am so sorry, Ed. Something came up… I… Can I come in?” He asked and motioned into the apartment. Ed noticed a speckling of blood on the cuff of his shirt beneath his suit jacket.

Oh…

OH.

That’s what he was… Oh….

Ed’s pulse quickened as he wondered just what manner of violence Oswald might have been committing but of course stepped aside and welcomed the shorter man into his home. Soon the two were sipping wine at his table, by the glow of a dim candle light and the neon outside. Edward had dinner reheating in the oven and things felt good. Natural between them. They always were though. When able to strip away the factors that covered them, the other things in their lives which draped over personalities with personas created and lives built on opposite sides of fictional lines in the sand-- when it all fell away, they were so similar. It was rather startling perhaps if considered from the outside.

But so is the rarity to see objectively when within such a deep connection.

Edward simply thought it kismet. Fate. They were so well suited to one another and never before had he known this feeling. This sense. Of being understood and just _seen_. Oswald saw him. He saw him in a way no one else ever had and this was everything Ed had ever needed from another person. All the validation and approval and simple companionship which no one else had ever given him seemed to come so easily for Oswald and Edward lapped it up like a man malnourished for that oh so delectable notion of interpersonal intimacy. Something so long forbidden to him, something so long coveted-- a thing which he craved and feared in equal measure for oh so long.

Soon, without it seeming as though time had really passed, they had finished dinner. And dessert, and Oswald was complimenting him again as he had so many times in the course of the night, and each kind word brought a fresh blush to Ed’s cheeks.

“Dessert was delicious, Edward.” He said softly, smiling across the table.

“Th-thank you….” He murmured and looked down, feeling oddly aware of his hand resting on one side of the table while Oswald’s rested on the other side. Close. So close and yet not close enough it felt, for Ed to take the leap and hold his hand. So instead they remained separate, and Ed felt acutely, painfully aware of that unfortunate fact. Without the nerve to correct it, a soft silence fell between them until finally he spoke, just to fill the air and stave off the awkwardness. “I was afraid when you were late that it wouldn’t be as good…” He offered, shyly looking at the empty ramekin in front of him, and finding the silence not to be so easily avoided.

“I am sorry again for that.” Oswald repeated. “I feel like I owe you an apology for so much… I mean, I feel I’m always so rude to you.” He took the initiative to gently brush his fingers over Ed’s hand. Ed’s eyes darted down and the blush only deepened.

“I-- No, not at all. I feel like I always seem to just annoy you.” He laughed a little and sipped his wine nervously.

“No, no… Not at all. I mean, I never even thanked you for your sweet card or your gifts… I mean, I even accused you having something to do with Dougherty disappearing.” Oswald laughed and Ed choked a little into his wine with a small laugh to play it off.

“Yes… That was… rather surprising.” Ed said, gently dabbing his mouth with his napkin, moving away his hand as he did so and breaking what little contact he had established with Oswald. He hated to, but he could feel his nerves skittering over the topic of Dougherty and he began to fidget a little.

“Of course it was.” Oswald waved his hand. “I accused you of something you clearly had no part in… And then tonight I was so late. I have been so terrible to you. I really don’t deserve your kindness.”

Ed was desperate to turn the subject as far from Dougherty as possible so he attempted as casually as possible. “So, why were you so late tonight, if I may ask?”

Oswald frowned a little at that question. “I… Well, lets just say I handled some pressing business.” He smiled and drank from his beaker style wine glass as this only peaked Ed’s interest further. He had been dying to know what left blood on Oswald’s shirt since he arrived. He was still desperate to know. The question was eating away at him.  But did he dare ask? It felt like something he shouldn’t say, and yet there was literally nothing else on his mind as he tried to think of anything else he could say instead.

“Interesting.” Ed offered with raised brows. “I… I umm… I noticed a bit of-- there on your shirt.” He motioned to Oswald’s exposed shirt sleeve just beneath his black jacket. “Part of your business?” He wanted to sound casual-- almost joking perhaps? He wanted to be clear with the other man that his criminality didn’t detract from who he was and if anything, Ed found the whole thing rather quite exciting.

Unfortunately, Oswald’s first notion was not that Ed found the blood charming, and he immediately grew defensive.

“You really shouldn’t pry, Edward. It isn’t polite.” Oswald snapped at him as he pulled down his jacket sleeve to cover the stain. Ed’s interest immediately crumbled into remorse.

“I’m so sorry, Oswald. I never…. I never meant to imply…I was just curious. I… I think you seem like such an interesting person and I… I find your work so mysterious and fascinating.. I never meant to be rude, I just---” He was rambling on and on when Oswald reached out and took his hand from where it was raised in a gesture Ed hadn’t even realized he was making. He immediately went silent though when Oswald’s hand clasped over his.

“Relax. I… Perhaps I shouldn’t have snapped.” He sighed, feeling bad for having set the other man on edge so easily. “What if we retire to your sofa with our wine and continue this conversation a little more comfortably?” He offered and Ed took a long moment to process the offer before nodding weakly.

“I-- I okay….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to everyone who has noted how I altered some slightly triggering rape-culture-y content out of this fic to make it more palatable, and more fun honestly. Nothing is fun about entitlement to romantic affection, or about feeling obligated to offer it. That ain't how this works. 
> 
> Also, this date will be continued in the next chapter! So stay tuned to see what happens (:


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oswald is violent, Ed is excited, and things take a not too surprising turn.
> 
> We continue to follow canon, my loves. And we are approaching that final scene so fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Graphic descriptions of violence here. Oswald is a bad guy, Ed is fascinated. Not much more to it than those facts. Hope you guys don't mind the details, it was important to me that it be established the similarities these two share and violence is clearly one of them and in canon we get Mr. Leonard to establish that for them-- they need other bonding tho in this version. This is a bit of that. (:

Oswald lead the way over to the nearby couch where they sat side by side with wine and after a long lingering silence, Oswald sighed and gently reached out to place both his and Ed’s glasses upon the coffee table, gently taking Ed’s hand. Ed looked at him with wide, uncertain-- perhaps even fearful eyes. This was strange. New. Scary. His heart was racing as he met those soft blue green eyes and felt like he could cry real tears for how badly he wanted Oswald. For how much he loved him. It was too much all at once and he wondered if the other man could tell how he held Ed’s heart so neatly inside his theoretically blood stained hands. Such a notorious, terrifying man and Ed was irreparably in love with him. He wanted to kiss him so much he could practically feel the sensation ghosting on his lips as he waited to hear what Oswald had to say. 

“Ed, I… I’m very fond of you. And I know this tonight… It didn’t go as planned. And I can tell you have some suspicions as to why I was late tonight. As to what I kind of business in which I am truthfully involved, but my friend, I worry…” He hesitated and looked down for a moment, seeming unsure which was such a strange look on a man who tended to know so well who he was at all times. “You are such a kind, gentle man. A good man. I wouldn’t wish to… Harm your opinion of me by being too honest about my work.” He looked back into Ed’s eyes with a renewed sort of determination though. “I likewise though, find you a bit too earnest and sincere to want to lie to you. There’s just something about you, Ed. And I want to be... Honest about what I do and who I am. ”

He sighed and let go of Ed’s hand to reach for his glass of wine. Edward watched him with baited breath. His mouth hung open a little as he struggled for words. He needed to say something. He wanted so badly to be one of those people who knew what to say in moments like these. Moments that were so sincere and genuine that they hurt a little, but in that bittersweet way that only true intimacy can hurt those who know they don’t deserve it. He was opening up and Ed had hidden so much from him. He didn’t deserve Oswald’s candor, and he half hated himself for sitting here wanting to grab at all he would say and cling to it eternally. He hated himself for his own hypocrisy, and was about to reassure Oswald he needn’t tell Ed anything. He really was. He planned to say just those words and to end the topic then and there. 

Oh but the road to hell is paved with good intentions. 

And his intentions all halted the instant Oswald removed the wine glass from his lips and spoke a single sentence that made all of Ed’s rational considerations shove to the back of his mind as something far more primal-- and far more powerful come over him. 

“That being said, I was late this evening because I was torturing and killing a group of men who work for Don Salvatore Maroni-- well, worked…” He smiled that little smile of his with a minor shrug of his shoulders and Edward could feel himself falling even more in love if such a thing were even possible. He of course wouldn’t have believed so at the start of the evening, and yet here he was… And Oswald had somehow become more perfect.  “Why isn’t important. Let’s just say they saw things I’d have preferred they didn’t see.” Oswald added with a wave of his hand and then smiled at Ed. “There. Now you know. Any other questions?” 

“How did you do it?” 

Wait--  Oh dear. 

Was that a thought? Did he say it outloud? For a moment Ed’s eyes go wide as he actually realizes he had no moment of pause or consideration. The question just came without any thing other than impulsiveness to guide the way. It was so very not Ed and he feels almost embarrassed-- no well, very embarrasses really. But then Oswald smirks a little and leans in a bit closer to Ed, offering the full effect of his neon bathed facial expressions as he offered details that perhaps were intended to shock Ed or even horrify him. 

“Well, if you must know, I used bolt cutters to remove their fingers one by one, knuckle by knuckle until they told me what they knew about the organization. It took four fingers with one of the men, and only two with the other two. The trick is of course to space the snipping at least a minute apart, and to vamp a little in between. The time in between allows the pain to settle and keeps the victim from growing numb in a certain region too quickly. You can tell when they really run out of things to say, because they tend to stop divulging new information as you take off a new digit. Just more begging.” Oswald smirked, still staring into Ed’s eyes. They had clouded with something strange. Something different than anything he had seen before in the taller man. He assumed that look to be one of his intense intrigue. 

In reality, Ed’s mind was going fuzzy with lust at hearing Oswald describe in detail what he did to his victims. The idea of him clipping off their appendages as if he were clipping  hedge or something. Bolt cutters. How those men must have screamed. Soon Oswald was rambling himself a little, not that Ed minded one bit. The penguin was detailing the way they screamed, begged even for mercy. How the weaker two men crumbled so easily and so pathetically that they almost took the fun out of the whole experience. It was somewhere amidst his descriptions that Ed found himself vividly imagining the events as if he had been there. He could really imagine being there. 

Oswald had the men tied up in chairs side by side so they could watch as each endured the carnage before the next had his turn. The first man was taller, he had said, than the others. A man with long fingers probably. Ed could just envision the way the blood would splatter from the wound when the tip of his first finger was snipped off. Then the next section of it. And the next. Perhaps that was where the blood on Oswald’s sleeve came from. Such long fingers… Ed could practically hear the way they would scream as the segments fell to the ground. The horror of it all. The mellifluous sound of such an agonized cacophony. A symphony of pain played by the deft, skilled hands of the one person Edward loved. The only person he had ever loved. The best person he had ever known. 

Ed’s imagination took in every detail, and missed no chance to paint the picture within the taller man’s mind as he stared utterly enamored with Oswald. 

Apparently the third man had been shorter, a stout fellow, already missing a few fingers from some other incident.  He refused to cooperate for longer, and then even after they took off four of his fingers and he told what he knew, he still seemed… To be holding back. He had clearly been the little group’s ringleader. Oswald couldn’t allow for him to be disrespectful though, of course. So when the man called Oswald a freak-- well, the penguin had no real choice. He used a still rather on hand crow bar and began to beat the man senseless before shooting both his companions in the skulls and turning the gun on him. Oh-- but no man spoke to Oswald Cobblepot like that and got such a clean, merciful death. No. 

He forced the straight end of the crowbar into his mouth and rammed it down the man’s throat, with the hooked edge sticking out of him. The pain would have been unbearable, but even as he screamed, he’d be choking on his own blood from the intrusion, the physical intensity of the assault. Ed was close enough to see the small flecks of green seem to sparkle in Oswald’s eyes -- he half wondered when he got so close, but couldn’t bare to really move away. The story, the details, the hedonistic sharpness with which Oswald framed the sensation of feeling the life fade from this man at his choice, at his demand, because he chose it and because he decided it was so… His breath had grown shaky and harsh, his heart was racing as he hung onto Oswald’s every word. 

Every.

Single. 

Word. 

“I’m probably boring you.” Oswald shook his head a little in the middle of his little recollections of the day, and Ed’s eyes widened with slight panic. No, he couldn’t stop! He needed to… Ed needed him to continue. He needed…

His hand reached out to grab Oswald’s arm in an instinctive move as he managed to shake his head and clear his throat. “Please contin-” 

Oh dear. 

Ed had grabbed Oswald’s arm which held his glass of wine which caused him to spill into his lap. Before he could even finish his statement, Ed was jumping up and muttering apologies. “Sorry… I’m such a klutz….” He grumbled and grabbed a towel from the kitchen counter to try and help dry off Oswald’s lap. But just as he suddenly stood in front of Oswald and the still sitting man looked up at Ed, both men seemed to notice something far more embarrassing than a little spilled wine. It seemed Edward had been more… enraptured in Oswald’s story than he even realized. 

And his body had responded in a way that went even further than his elevated heart rate and quickened breaths. He was… Well, excited seemed a tactful term for it, but there was of course nothing tactful about the fact Oswald was now suddenly face to face-- quite literally with the most glaring evidence of Ed’s romantic and sexual immaturity and inexperience he could be offered. Ed felt like he might actually dissolve into a liquid on the floor for the force of his humiliation. His face turned the darkest shade of red and after only a second of truly horrified shock, he stumbled back and shoved both his hands in front of the bulge in his trousers, ringing the towel between them as he almost had tears in those big brown eyes. He couldn’t even form words. He was just so… ashamed. 

“Oh um--I--I’m going to go clean up in the restroom.” Oswald said, clearing his throat with small glance to Ed. He didn’t seem to want to look at him, for which Ed could hardly blame him. He wouldn’t want to look at such a loser either. 

The moment he was gone into the bathroom, Ed’s other self appeared, arms crossed as he stood just on the other side of the sofa. 

“You blew it, dummy. Nice work!” He scoffed. And unlike other times, Ed just couldn’t ignore him this time. No, not now. Not when he already knew he had ruined everything. The mood, the night, the date, his chance with Oswald. He was too mad at himself to stand hearing from that part of him just now. 

“Leave me ALONE!” Ed snapped loudly, only to have Oswald’s voice come in response. 

“Are you talking to me?” Ed spun around when Oswald spoke, and his expression softened exponentially from when he was talking to himself. Panic filled his face though when he saw Oswald moving to get his coat. 

“No.” He insisted and moved to intercept Oswald picking up his coat from by the door. “Honestly, Oswald, I wasn’t talking to you.” 

“Who else is there?” Oswald asked that question, which was entirely fair and at the same time so unbelievably unfair. He had to explain-- but how could he explain without telling Oswald just how damaged he was. Just how  _ broken  _ he was. 

“I…. Talk to myself. It’s crazy I know.” He sighed and shook his head. It was the truth. Maybe not the whole truth but most of it, right? Enough of it at least. “I just, I have this, um I have this voice inside my head, a sort of stronger version of me, that keeps this me in line, because I'm such a klutz.” He explained, eyes looking downward. Suddenly though, Oswald touched his cheek to gently guide his gaze up to meet his eyes. Why did his hands always have to be so soft and his eyes have to be so bright? 

“I can understand that. I think that we all have a voice like that.” His voice was soft and gentle and Ed couldn’t help but return the small smile he was being given. 

“Y-you think?” Ed asked now, ever so slightly hopeful. Oswald nodded. 

“What was your inner voice saying?” The criminal asked with his hand still resting on Ed’s cheek, his thumb was tracing the line of his cheekbone and Ed found it both soothing and a little distracting from the negative emotions he had been feeling only moments ago. So strange considering he had been prepared for Oswald to storm out of here. 

“He was mad at me for spoiling the mood… By being so... “ He blushed and cast his eyes down again in dismay at the very memory, even if now the problem had subsided. 

“Mm-hmm.” Oswald leaned in suddenly to kiss Ed’s cheek as he moved his hand to rest on his shoulder. That got the taller man to look right back at Oswald, eyes wide and slightly amazed. “It was a really nice mood… But my inner voice is telling me that it’s sort of sweet to know you enjoy being close to me that much… My proximity is that… pleasant.” Oswald blushed a little as well, and oh what a sight that was. To see his fair skin, riddled with freckles-- which Edward was determined to one day properly count-- all a glow with a soft pink color that crept across his far too perfectly adorable nose. “I appreciate that you like me, Ed. And why would such a nice mood ever be ruined by that fact?” He asked simply and Ed could feel it. This was the moment. 

Sometimes fate does that. Gives you a moment, like when Ed should have asked him out that night at his mother’s apartment. Sometimes fate just hands out a perfect opportunity, an opportunity to change your life completely. To do something with the knowledge you can never go back. This was one of those rare events in a person’s life, when they have real control over their own happiness. A chance for Ed to grab at happiness with both hands and cling to it. 

And he did. 

His hands were tentative as they moved to rest on Oswald’s small frame. One on his waist as he stepped closer and the other on his neck, tilting his head up as he kissed him. It wasn’t Ed’s first ever kiss. He wasn’t  _ that _ inexperienced. It was his seventh kiss ever to be exact. The third with a man. The second in his entire life that he had actually initiated. But he could see it in Oswald’s expression, could feel it in the air between them, could read it in the way Oswald’s fingers rested against the shoulder of his jacket, his thumb tracing the seam of the material. He knew this was right. This was good. 

This was IT. 

He closed the distance between them with a gentle pressing of his lips to Oswalds and there it was. They were kissing. Oswald responded as only Oswald could. He leaned up and into Edward’s lips and reached his free hand up to rest on Ed’s neck, fingers curling in his hair at the back. The kiss was soft and short and it flooded Ed with this feeling of endorphins. Not unlike the moment he killed Tom Dougherty, not that Ed would realize it at the time. No, right now, it was all about Oswald. Just as the first kiss ended, Oswald leaned in to initiate another. More ugent. Less unsure. Soon no one was really initiating. They were just kissing. Deep, slow kisses which lit Ed’s whole body with the chemistry that ran between them. This was what it felt like-- what it was supposed to feel like. All those silly romantic songs and all those terrible idioms and all the fairy tales that Edward had spent a lifetime scoffing at for the neglectful understanding of scientific reason all were suddenly offered a new light of consideration. Because this feeling? The feeling he got from kissing Oswald Cobblepot and running his fingers over his back and along his neck, and feeling Oswald’s hands on him? This feeling defied logic and reason. It was beyond scientific understanding. 

It was love. 

And finally, Ed knew what it was like to have someone feel it back. At least a little. Maybe. 

Well, at the very least, Oswald liked him an awful lot, and after decades of being affection-starved, Edward could live comfortably off of a strong like for a very VERY long time. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oswald and Edward have an unexpected meddler, and both have some realizations of their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter dears. Hope you enjoy XD

The next few weeks were all rather blissful, if Edward were to be honest. His life seemed to be divided into these two very distinct parts of existence. Either he was with Oswald, or he was thinking about being with him. He was most of what he thought about and had even become one of his more favored parts of conversation. His boyfriend. The Penguin. Yes, that night at his apartment had begun a sincere and honest relationship for the two, and Ed just couldn’t have been happier. Except of course… Well, there was one thing. Such a small thing. Such an innocent, insignificant thing. 

The lying to Oswald. 

About Tom. 

Well, maybe not lying. Lying was such a strong and active seeming word and what Ed was doing was far from active. No, it was passive. Omission of something wasn’t an outright lie. He just… Didn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him though, of course. It just wasn’t an option. To tell him would be to make it known to Oswald that Ed had hurt him. Had taken from him someone he loved. And of course, that is idiotic because Edward was the person Oswald should love. And the person Oswald did or atleast would love in time. Tom Dougherty had been a menace. An EVIL man. A monster. And Edward had saved him. 

“He should be grateful to us. You shouldn’t be moping about it.” Came that oh so familiar voice as Ed did a run down of a cadaver that was brought in this morning. A stabbing victim. That’s why it made him think of… well,  _ his _ stabbing victim. He tried to ignore the other him though. He just didn’t have the time, nor the patience to listen to anyone on the matter. He needed to get this done before Oswald got there. He was taking Ed out to lunch. It was so sweet, really. He wanted to come pick him for a change since usually Edward had to run back and forth to the club during his limited breaks. Ed glanced at the clock, only to realize-- Oswald should have been there by now. It was already ten after noon. Hmm… He wondered what could be delaying him. A part of him hoped it was another little need for violence like before. He likewise hoped Oswald would tell him the very graphic details again. Just because Ed was curious and enjoyed hearing what made Oswald happy.

Not for any other reason, of course. 

\---

Oswald so loathed to be late. But what he hated more still was the fact he was late as a direct result of the incompetence of his staff. He would owe Ed at least a dozen apologies for the fact he managed not to make it on time to yet another of their dates. But, of course, apologies never seemed to be necessary as Ed just wanted him there. He was always just more than happy to spend time with Oswald regardless of what was scheduled and what actually happened. The criminal almost felt guilt over how easy Ed was to take advantage of in terms of his generosity and kindness-- not that he actively tried to take advantage of him. But each time Ed’s desperation worked to grant Oswald absolution of what should have been a clear slight-- the Penguin made a mental note to one day try and explain to him just how perfectly acceptable it is to be angry sometimes. 

One day that is, but not necessarily today. 

Oswald smirked a little to himself as he strolled into the GCPD. He was only perhaps five minutes or so behind schedule. Not too bad. He leaned on his cane as he headed for towards the stairs, only to be stopped by none other than Detective Gordon.  _ Oh joy.  _ It wasn’t as though they had bad history of course. They had no history really. Jim came to Oswald for favors now and again, and Oswald rather liked to hold over his head the idea he would use those favors one day. He was a handsome man as well, one Oswald never had any real problem appreciating for that fact. But aside from the occasional little  tête-à-tête, they remained virtual barely acquaintances. Nevertheless, Oswald managed a broad sort of smirk for the man. 

“Ah… Detective Gordon. Hello!”

“Oswald.” Jim always managed to say his name as if he were both angry and relieved to see him. Sometimes Oswald wondered if he really was both those things-- with the former making some sense and the latter being much more interesting to consider.  

“I’m afraid if you have business with me, it needs to wait. I’m late for my date with Edward.” Still the ever pleasant smile resting on his lips as flashes of irritation played out in his eyes. 

“Oh yeah?” Jim asked and only then did Detective Bullock make his nearby presence known. 

“Oh right, we heard about that. You and Nygma. Seems about fitting-- guy always has seemed a few cards short of a full deck…” Bullock smirked at Oswald, to which the Penguin gave him a particularly death-like glare. 

“I can assure you, Edward is the cleverest, most mentally competent person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Why he wastes his talents helping men of your limited talents is beyond me….” He quipped, and then he looked back at Jim, who continued to block his way. “Excuse me, detective, but as fascinating as it is to discuss my love life with you-- I really should be on my way.” Oswald tried to step past, but Jim reached out to grab his arm, prompting Oswald to look at him with both anger and frustration. “What are you doing?” 

“I could ask you the same question. Ed is a good guy. A little strange, but harmless.”

“Detective Gordon, if you don’t release me--” Jim let go at that moment but gave Oswald a shove back. Oswald gave a huff, straightening as he glared at him.

“Like I was saying, he’s a nice guy. He isn’t equipped to realize how dangerous you are… Whatever it is you’re planning on using him for…”

“Excuse me, Jim, but unless you have a business matter to discuss, I think this conversation is over. What I choose to do with my personal life, and what Edward chooses to do with his, is of no concern to you.” He spat. The NERVE! How dare he even imply he had the right to tell Oswald who he could or couldn’t see. 

“He’s not like you, Oswald. We both know it’s just a matter of time before you put him in a situation he can’t handle… A matter of time before you get him hurt.” He retorted and grabbed a fistful of Oswald’s jacket. “Of course that would imply you even care. I think we both know you’re hoping to use him as--” 

Jim and his aggression were cut off by Ed’s voice. “DETECTIVE GORDON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” 

Jim released Oswald and turned away as Ed rushed up to the men and looked Oswald over and then shot a glare at Jim before recentering his attention on Oswald. He had noticeably placed himself between the two to ensure Oswald was safe. “Did something happen? I… I… Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, let’s get going.” Oswald snapped, looking over Ed’s shoulder to glare at Jim as he straightened himself back up after the rough police handling. 

“I-- I have to take these papers back to my lab first...” He nervously glanced between Oswald and the direction he needed to go as he if he couldn’t decide whether to go back or follow Oswald out and continue checking that he was alright. Oswald sighed a little and reached out to take Ed’s free hand with a gentle squeeze. 

“Why don’t I walk with you?” He asked, giving another irritated look over Ed’s shoulder at the detective before the pair headed off as such. Oswald was so busy glaring at Jim to notice Ed had looked over his shoulder at well. And where Oswald’s stare was frustrated and annoyed, Ed’s held something different. Something dangerous. 

Something murderous. 

\---

Edward had overheard their conversation. Part of it at least. Enough to know Jim had been trying to tell Oswald to leave him. When Oswald and Jim were so engaged in staring at one another, so angry with each other that they scarcely seemed to notice the world around them, Ed had taken the opportunity when he came onto the main precinct floor to move closer, to listen. He had only heard a small amount. It was enough to know what they were talking about without getting anywhere near the full conversation. He had to keep moving across the floor, blending into the regular shuffle of detectives and paperwork to avoid being caught. He didn’t want them to know he had been listening. Particularly as he now had the chance to see how honest with him Oswald would be. Would he tell him the things Jim had said?

_ “He’s a nice guy. He isn’t equipped to realize how dangerous you are… Whatever it is you’re planning on using him for…” _

Ed was livid. He silently seethed as he walked with Oswald hand in hand, replaying that little piece of the conversation he had been privy to. The NERVE of Jim. To insinuate he knew anything about Ed. To pretend to understand him or his capabilities. Just because they worked together, Jim Gordon somehow thought he had the right to assert himself as some kind of protector for Ed? How absurd! How laughable! How very disgustingly and ridiculously wrong…  He was just taking the place of some profound moral authority of self righteousness so he could have yet something else to congratulate himself on by saving poor innocent Ed. If only James Gordon knew what Ed had done to one of his fellow boys in blue… If only he had known what Ed still fantasized about wishing he’d have done. Killing Dougherty was one of the best things Ed had ever had the privilege of committing because not only did it save Oswald, but it also helped ensure they were together-- and he’d happily repeat the action if needed by killing Jim Gordon and never feeling threatened over the bond between he and Oswald. 

Hell, he was still imagining the look on Jim’s face had he shoved his hand into a nearby paper shredder for even daring to insinuate that his relationship with Oswald wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. Or that Oswald was using him somehow? Like he wasn’t genuinely interested in Ed? Like he couldn’t possibly return Ed’s feelings because somehow Jim knew so very much about Ed suddenly? 

Just the NERVE of him!

Once alone in his lab, Oswald smiled softly at him-- seeming to have put aside the irritations of Detective Gordon for now so he could enjoy being with Ed. Good. Enjoying being together was good, even if it wasn’t quite enough. Ed shut the door behind them,  clicking down the lock before moving to suddenly wrap his arms tight around Oswald. He kissed him deeply and passionately, walking against him until he had him trapped against the nearest counter. He needed this. He hadn’t kissed Oswald all day and knowing someone out there was trying to keep them apart-- he needed the reassurance that came with kissing Oswald. It was like this incredibly grounding reminder that they were together. That Ed was his boyfriend. That they kissed and everything sometimes, because they were a real couple and it was so perfect. Also as always, Oswald was so wonderful to kiss. So soft and yet so in touch with the desire he felt as well. He kissed back with passion and sincere want, and soon his thigh was pressing between Ed’s legs to brush against the growing arousal at his groin, and Ed gasped sharply at the contact before pulling away all of a sudden. He was breathing heavily as he all but gaped down at Oswald who blushed a little under such a look. 

“Sorry, Edward, I didn’t mean to rush things, I just---”  He was apologizing. Oh no! No, no, NO. Ed hadn’t pulled away because things were too fast. They were soul mates. How could anything be too fast for him? Everything between them was perfect. He just… He had brought Oswald here to ask him about that conversation. About what else Jim might have been saying. About how Oswald must definitely agree with Ed that he was completely out of line and flat out wrong to ever say Ed and Oswald didn’t belong together. Ed stopped Oswald’s apology with his own. 

“No! No, please… I… No, I definitely didn’t feel rushed… I.. I want you to.. Like that… When we’re kissing like that… I.. I just… We need to talk about-- well, need is I suppose a strong word, but I rather need to know for sure about it if I can because otherwise it will just drive me crazy but of course you don’t have to answer. It isn’t literally going to--” 

“WHAT is it, Ed?” Oswald cut into Ed’s rambling and the man flushed. Oh right. Right, the point. He was so busy talking around  the notion of Oswald being angry with him for asking that he forgot how he hadn’t actually asked yet. 

“I want to know what you and Jim Gordon were talking about.” He said, straightening up a little and using a single hand to push his glasses up, straightening them along the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh? Nothing.” Oswald shook his head and made a small hand gesture with an eye roll, moving away from Ed. “Now what paperwork did you have to do before we could--” His hand was caught by Ed who pulled him back into that space where Ed cornered his body against the cabinets and Oswald’s blue green eyes seemed to look at Ed with mild annoyance. 

“I know he wants you to break things off with me.” Ed tried his best to sound forceful and almost accusing, but the best he managed was sounding rather like a slightly nervous teenager. As if he were unsure, and worried-- as if he believed Jim had the power he was trying so bad to convince himself he couldn’t have. Oswald sighed a little, looking all the more irritated than before. 

“You were listening?” Oswald’s voice was sharp, and it made Ed’s slight glare fall all together. 

Ooops.

Oswald was a lot better at that accusatory tone. Oh god, and he was looking angry. There was something in his anger that was both thrilling and terrifying. It set him on edge in ways which were complicated and double edged-- familiar and strange, and all at once made him want to fall on his knees for both forgiveness and punishment in equal score. He was working on some clever story for how he heard that snippet but nothing more. He ran through a dozen or so possible scenarios in the span of a millisecond. But god, that glare Oswald had perfected felt like daggers inside of Ed and finally he caved into a rambling version of the truth. An old classic of the tall man with an honesty compulsion. “I just… I want to know-- I overheard a little, yes, and I… Oswald, he’s wrong! I need to make sure you know that... He’s just so WRONG.” Ed looked so pleadingly as he reached out to gently touch Oswald’s hand. “He’s completely and emphatically incorrect about everything. He’s such… Such an idiot to even try and… I can handle this. I can be with you. I can make you happy. I KNOW I can, and it isn’t fair that he’s telling you lies about me not being able to-- You KNOW I can do this. I can be with you. I’m not such a nice guy, I’m really NOT. I can handle this, and Jim Gordon is just a---” 

Ed’s rambling was cut off by Oswald kissing him, and the rigidness which had built up in his shoulders fell to relief. Kissing was good. Kissing was grounding. Kissing was the reassurance the man had craved since the instant those words had left Jim Gordon’s moronic mouth. Ed allowed Oswald to lead this time, following him as Ed’s hands rested on Oswald’s hips and he helped guide him away from the counter where they had been. So focused on the kisses and the taste of his lips, Edward didn’t notice until he was needing to bend lower that Oswald had sat down in the chair.  His chair. Oh, he had moved them over to his desk and now he was sitting down. Okay. That made sense. Oswald’s ankle was likely hurting from standing too long. Or maybe he just needed a rest. Ed considered this with faraway, vague thoughts as the forefront of his mind was consumed with Oswald and the sensation of kissing him. Oh, he loved kissing him so much. Almost as much as he loved what would come next. 

Suddenly, and surprisingly he was being pulled down onto Oswald’s lap, straddling him. Oh-OH. O-okay. Yes, this was okay. No, this was good. This felt good.  _ Really _ good. It was so new, so strange-- feeling his thighs rubbing against Oswald’s lap. He was getting more excited by the second, and normally the fact when kissing might have made him bashful or almost ashamed. But this time, it wasn’t only him who was excited. Being at this angle, in this position, he felt Oswald’s own arousal rubbing against his leg. The idea Edward was capable of doing that was astounding. He had managed to turn the criminal on-- properly. Sincerely. He had made his body have a biochemical physical reaction to his proximity, his touch, and his taste.  Ed felt sort of empowered by the idea, and far less shy about his own reaction. 

But this wasn’t even the best of it yet. 

No, that came when Oswald pulled back a little and trailed kisses over Ed’s flushed cheeks and down his jawline. Hot, hungry kisses that relished affection against his skin and left Ed’s already trembling and panting form all the more desperate-- not for their feeling, but for the words Oswald spoke as he delivered them. Each kiss came with a trailing of a promise and that promise made Ed whimper with want. 

“If Jim Gordon… Ever tried to actually do anything… To take you away from me… I would string him up by his wrists, remove his skin, and gut his body.. Ensuring he was alive for all of it… Ensuring he FELT all of it….” Oswald smirked and Ed shuddered softly, feeling his excitement mounting with each and every syllable. The words “oh dear” slipped from his lips in a harsh, lust wrenched whisper. Then Oswald added in a low voice, as he ground his hips  hard up against Ed, four words that seemed punctuated by his hips hitting just that right spot against him. “Because. You. Are. Mine.” 

Where in the moments before, Edward had felt no shame in being so thoroughly excited in a moment that seemed mutually intense for the pair-- shame found him when with no control or warning, his body sputtered with a startled cry and he finished there in his trousers draped over Oswald’s lap. In the moment, just in the instant as it happened it felt sort of amazing. He was on top of Oswald and the friction was delicious and his body was only responding to the promise of Oswald wanting him. Of the Penguin, one of the most respected criminals under Don Falcone’s employ, wanting him enough to feel actual possessiveness. The pride swelled in him and mixed only with the way those words seemed to strike against a sense of need inside of Ed that he had never even known he had to begin with. It was all just so perfect and for that breath of a moment Ed felt his body responding to it all in the only way it could-- a climax. Sort of. 

But that single tiny sliver of joy soon was gone, and the rest of reality settled in to ruin it.

Because they were in his office, and they were fully clothed, and they’d only even been kissing, and Edward could feel the wet spot on his thigh, and Oswald was going to know, and Edward would be lucky to ever live down the fact he was such an inexperienced loser. 

_ “Nice work, hot shot.”  _ Came a voice from the corner as his other self mocked him.  _ “Now you’ll be lucky if you ever get past first base.”  _ He smirked and moved closer to the pair, looking at Ed with disgust in his eyes. 

“Stop it!” Ed snapped with tears suddenly welling in his eyes. In his moment of disassociation, he had forgotten he was still perched on Oswald’s lap. With Oswald kissing along his neck and humming softly against his skin. But Ed’s voice put an end to that pleasantness. Oswald pulled back and removed his hands where they had rested on his hips, looking up at Ed with wide, concerned eyes. 

“I--I’m so sorry, Edward… I thought… Did I do something wrong?” He looked confused. He thought Ed meant…

Oh dear. 

He struggled to find the words as he just stared down at Oswald. What could he say? How could he explain? There wasn’t an explanation other than him being crazy… And Ed was still clinging to hope that maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was just a little different. After all, Edward Nygma was a brilliant man. His IQ was off the charts, and there was far and away no chance that such a clever, bright mind could be insane. No. No, he was definitely sane. But could he count on Oswald to know that?

Ed looked down, helplessly as he leaned back on Oswald’s lap and revealed the stain against his thigh and Oswald’s confusion turned to a soft sort of understanding. Maybe that would be enough? Maybe he didn’t have to know about the other him, who so loathsomely taunted him at his lowest moments and was so distracting, Ed had even managed to forget he and Oswald were in the middle of something rather important and blissful.  

“Ah.” Oswald sighed a little and cupped Ed’s cheek as his eyes moved to search the taller man’s face and Oswald compelled him into eye contact with the touch. “I remain in awe of anyone who could enjoy being with me so much….” He smiled and leaned in to kiss Ed. “Please don’t feel embarrassed. It’s alright, Ed. Maybe we should just try and go slower next time… I was rather forceful considering where we are and the fact we have a lunch reservation we’re already late for… Please don’t look so upset, though. I promise I don’t mind.” He reassured him and leaned in to kiss his cheek softly, brushing fingers down Ed’s back as he did so. 

Ed felt fresh tears pricking his eyes as he looked at Oswald with such sincere, and overwhelming love. It hurt to love him this much, Edward considered, because he knew no matter how wonderful Oswald was-- he could never really love him back like this. It was impossible. It was impossible that anyone had ever loved this much or this entirely with anyone. Oswald was everything. He was brilliant, and dangerous, and deadly, and generous, and kind, and so so understanding. He was everything and Edward felt his worshipping sort of love only grow deeper until it did indeed hurt. It was all that Edward was sometimes--- in moments like these at least, when all he felt was loving Oswald and all there was was loving Oswald and he could feel it swelling inside of him. Consuming him. 

But what a way to be consumed. 

“You’re better than I deserve.” Ed managed and his self loathing seemed to fill him up with echoes of that other self playing in his mind. Words about how stupid he was. How unworthy. How he was lying to Oswald, and in the end that would be what ended things no matter what. He had hurt him, he had broken his heart, he had killed the man Oswald loved and ultimately, Oswald would find out and leave him. Ed fought internally as Oswald leaned in to kiss his lips again. 

“Nonsense.” Is all Oswald says with a shake of his head and he kisses the tip of Ed’s nose. “I noticed a spare lab coat hanging on the door. Put that on to get out of the building and we’ll stop by your apartment so you can change into fresh pants before we go to the restaurant.” 

Oswald’s plan is so reasonable, so sensible that Ed knows he’d have thought of it himself. If only he wasn’t busy making a new plan of just how to confess to Dougherty’s murder before Oswald found out any other way-- and how to guarantee that Oswald appreciated the fact of what Ed did for him. How could he ensure Oswald saw things objectively? How could he ensure he overlooked the ugliness and realized one reason Ed was so perfect for him was that they were alike? 

Oswald had said he would mutilate Jim to ensure he regretted trying to keep them apart. How could he make it clear and understood that’s all he was doing with Dougherty? He and Oswald were the same. 

They were soulmates. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your continued support. You guys are amazing and this chapter felt especially difficult because of the length but I hope everyone liked it. Theres a deleted scene fic that should go up soon as a part of this fic series as well. Def check it out!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Edward is definitely DEFINITELY going to confess. 
> 
> Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I took a lot of time to consider this chapter and I hope that shows.   
> Things do get graphic with blood and gore my loves. Be wary.

Over the next few days, Ed looked for any real opportunity in the conversation to bring up the fact he had been the end of Oswald’s relationship with Tom Dougherty. Furthermore, he longed to be able to get the credit he was so desperately due. Were he to be honest those two pieces of his mind seemed to argue quite viciously with one another. With one side of him insisting he needed to be proud of the service he had done to Oswald and the other side of him panicked about what would happen if Oswald ever started digging into what had happened. He would certainly leave Edward if he found out that way. No… He had to tell him. He couldn’t risk anything but his own chance to explain his way. To ensure all facts were presented in his favor. That was the key to this. 

His own special brand of tact. 

So he planned the perfect evening at his apartment. He had chosen to make lobster, a favorite of Oswald's which he was confident he could prepare to perfection. The biggest concern in all of this was making sure the words came out appropriately. It was of course never easy to admit something to one’s lover that would upset them-- even less easy when the confession could end the relationship and the lover is both the most powerful man in the city and a known murderer. Though for some odd reason the idea of being murdered by Oswald made his very body tremble with anticipation of such a thing. The way Oswald might…. Disembowel him… Drive his ice pick into his eye… Delight in how very red and warm his blood felt as it trickled over Oswald’s h--  **FOCUS** . 

A perfect dinner, romantic candlelight, soft music, and a confession that he had needed to make for some time but only just now was finally allowing himself to make. That was what Edward had to keep his mind on. If he allowed it to wander to  _ other _ things, he might lose his nerve and end up having a lovely, counterproductive evening with Oswald where he only put more distance between when he should have confessed to him and when he actually did. No. He couldn’t do that. Every day he didn’t tell him made it all worse and the fear and anxiety were devouring Edward alive. He couldn’t love Oswald and hide this from him, and he certainly couldn’t keep learning his secrets and continue to hide his own away. 

Tonight would be the night it all came out. Edward had it so well planned, and was so hyper fixated on not letting anything distract him from it, that when Oswald showed up five minutes early with what he called a “surprise gift”, Ed was instantly annoyed. Only for a moment, of course because a gift is not something to be upset about, but it just felt unfair. This evening was meant to go a very specific way and they were already off script. 

Despite his irritation, Edward played along and closed his eyes as Oswald instructed, being led over to sit on the sofa as he waited. Despite not being able to see, he could hear the sound of a wood scraping across the floor. It sounded like a chair being dragged. Why would Oswald be bringing a chair in though? As Edward sat engaged in guessing, he heard the faintest sounds. Like muffled breathing almost? Hmm…

He didn’t have long to wonder before he felt weight shift on the sofa as Oswald joined him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Open your eyes.” Of course Ed moved his hands to eagerly take in the sight and it was perhaps the most stunned he had ever been. It was a man. But not just any man. No, he looked.. Almost familiar. Of course with that black eye and his mouth duct taped, it was hard to be certain. The man was tied up, his body slumped and wrapped in rope as he was secured inside the chair there looking the utter pathetic mess that he clearly was. Suddenly, Edward became aware of the fact Oswald wasn’t in his field of vision, but before he could look for him-- two hands came to rest on his shoulders from where his lover was standing behind the sofa. Oswald leaned down closer to whisper in his ear in a voice that set Ed’s already quickened pulse to a faster pace still. 

“He’s a gift. For you… One of Maroni’s men. I’ve made the arrangements to have his dear, darling Don handled as such and for the war to properly begin tonight, but I thought maybe… Just one little gift, couldn’t possibly hurt. These last few weeks have been the happiest I’ve had in such a long time, Edward. I adore you.” As he spoke, he pressed a small kiss to Ed’s earlobe. “And I think we are both very aware of how much you enjoy my stories…. I was wondering if you might like to get a story of your own….” Ed gasped softly as Oswald reached around to hold up in front of Ed, the taller man’s beloved switchblade, flicking out the glinting knife edge as he added softly. “Only if you want to of course.” Ed couldn’t see him, but the grin across swald’s face with audible in his tone. He was thrilled with himself and this prospect. 

But Ed found himself paralyzed somehow with sheer shock. No. NO. He had a plan for tonight. There were things they had to talk about. Things which had to be said. He couldn’t just ignore all of that and let himself be distracted by… Well, probably the most beautiful gesture anyone had ever done for him. Oswald was offering him a chance to fulfill what he saw as Ed’s fondest fantasy. Offering him something no one else would ever be able to offer the forensics specialist. Oswald was being so perfectly Oswald and it was terrifying in this moment because on Ed’s shoulders rested a secret big enough to end them. To end this. And the last thing he needed with all this pressure was more confirmation of the fact Oswald Cobblepot was the man he was meant to be with.

Yet here he was. His lackluster reaction of stunned silence was met with a small expression of dissatisfaction from Oswald. He huffed and straightened himself up, looking down at the man from where he stood behind him for a moment. Then he sighed softly, his irritation melting away as he considered this was so new to Edward. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe he wasn’t sure he wanted this… Oswald moved around the sofa to sit beside Ed, resting the knife on the nearby end table, and reaching out to take both his hands. Ed was dragged from his far away thoughts of losing Oswald for the revelation of his secret, and grounded in the sensation of being touched. He looked up at Oswald with a slightly lost expression in his deep chocolate eyes. Oswald again was the one to fill the desperate silence with his soft, melodious voice. 

“Edward, darling… It’s okay if you don’t want to. Perhaps it is too soon. I shouldn’t have sprung such an idea on you-- of course, I can assure you that every precaution has been taken. You are safe from any repercussions… If that’s the concern.” His eyes were so light, so warm. So reassuring. Damn him. Why did Oswald have to look at Ed like that. 

_ “Because he is stupid enough to actually believe he’s in love with you.”  _

Came the voice of the lurking other self he tried so hard to banish and ignore. He echoed inside of Ed’s head, haunting him in ways he’d never be able to escape. Ed closed his eyes tight for a moment, only to open them and be met with a fresh view of that far too kind expression in Oswald’s eyes. 

“Oswald, I…. It isn’t that--” He was about to make himself do it. Make himself explain everything. Leave the bound and gagged man to be witness to the destruction of their relationship and likely to be a part of the carnage which would proceed it. If not a consequence of Oswald’s rage, then certainly of Ed’s own. It was time it all came out. It was time the secrets were abolished and there was nothing but honesty between them. 

But then Oswald had to say it. 

He had to say the one thing which emptied Ed’s mind of every other thought he might have. 

The one thing which guaranteed conversation to be the last thought on Ed’s already frantically racing mind. 

“Perhaps we could do it…  _ Together _ .”  And where Ed’s eyes had been wandering elsewhere, they snapped up to look at Oswald, his face full of what could only be called wonder as he looked at the Penguin.  “Would you like to do that? Torture him. Dispose of him. Together. I’d be happy to do it while you watched of course, Ed, but I really did have him brought all the way here tonight for you. I can see it in your eyes… The things you’re capable of. The things Jim Gordon and the GCPD would try to hold you back from. But we aren’t like them, Edward. We’re better than them, because we know what has to be done and we aren’t afraid to admit it to ourselves.” He leaned in and gently kissed Ed’s cheek. “It’s okay of course to still be fearful of the action, so I won’t force you to do anything to him.” 

_ “Oh how cute. He thinks you’re doing anything other than now imagining painting one another’s bodies with this poor sap’s vital organs.”  _ The other him quipped and Edward didn’t even think to acknowledge him. He was too busy nodding quickly excitedly. 

“I’d love to do this with you. To-- to share him.” His voice was breathless. When did that happen? And when did he pick up the switchblade? And when did he stand up? It was all happening so fast, but before Edward even considered his decision to do so, he as looming over the bound man, armed and grinning ear to ear as Oswald retrieved one of the dinner knives Ed had laid out when setting the table. What came to ensue was a true and breathtaking sort of slaughter. The two men took turns first in distributing deep cuts across the man’s face, catching the end of one another’s swipes to deepen and elongate the scars they would have left-- should the man have lived long enough to see the wounds heal. He flinched and cried, tears running over his cheeks and mixing with the blood as it dripped along his overly square jawline. His screams muffled against the tape, and with each slice into his skin, Ed found himself craving the freedom to pull the tape off. To hear him cry. To hear him beg. But for now, he relished in the muffled noises he made, along with the sounds of delight Oswald uttered. Ed found himself fully doing things to the man for the sound of Oswald’s little gasps and giggles. There was something highly erotic passing between the pair as the torture moved to something more than superficial. Edward took his knife and trailed the blade over the man’s wrist, blunt side to skin and watched as those eyes so full of pain and anger stared at him. The victim really had this sort of hatred for Ed that read so clearly on his face it was almost comical. 

_ ‘Of course he hates, me…’ _ Ed considered. _ ‘I’m showing him just how powerless he is. He stands against Oswald. He has nothing to protect him against me.’  _

_ “Just like anyone who stands to harm Oswald. We will always stop them.”  _

Ed blinked at the man as that other side of him lingered right there in his peripheral, guiding his hand up with the knife suddenly so that the tip of the blade was resting against the center of the man’s chest. The memory of Dougherty came flooding over him and it was somehow delicious and disturbing all at once. And the delight he felt only fueled his shame, and his shame only served to tinge his delight with the feeling of the forbidden. It was so entangled with one another, and he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight of his soon to be victim. His face all cut up from childish injuries caused by Ed and his lover in the moments that were obviously preceding the man’s demise. They were so like children. The pair of them. Feeding off one another’s sick satisfaction to see this man get what he deserved. It didn’t even bother Edward though-- knowing this. 

Because on some level, he had always been cruel, he had always been capable of this. But for the first nearly three decades of his life, he had miserably clung to the idea of what was right. Of what he wanted to believe in. And here and now, he stood face to face with the chance to kill-- not his first, but his second victim… And he felt no remorse. No guilt. No real sense of feeling for the man in the chair at all. He was pathetic, and weak, and deserved this surely for presenting a hindrance to Oswald. For getting in his way. For doing something to make him unhappy. That’s all life ever was, anyway. Every action you took, people judged you for. Constantly. The ones who were brave enough to execute their thoughts shouldn’t be punished. They should be praised. Plenty of people had decided long ago that Edward was worthless. That he would likely be better off dead. But none of them had the guts to do anything about it. Well, Ed was better than them. Better than Jim Gordon. Better than that whole lot of officers at the precinct. 

He wasn’t scared to do what needed to be done. 

And he would do anything for Oswald. 

_ “Just like Dougherty.” _

His alter ego whispered in his ear as suddenly it was Tom sitting in that chair, smirking up at him with those handsome features and that mocking tone. Laughing at him a little. Mentioning how funny it was that he would have a thing for Oswald. How hilarious it was. How he would treat him as he wanted and there was nothing Ed could do about it. Nothing? Ed drew a hard breath in and plunged the knife nice and deep into his chest cavity. With that stab came a soft and rapid exhale from the tall man as he glanced back at the penguin with a slightly fearful expression. He hadn’t wanted to do that? He hadn’t planned to… They could have tortured him so much more… They could have--

Oswald was smiling. He was smiling a lot and he leaned in to rest his head on the side of Ed’s shoulder where he stood, reaching his free hand out to rest on the small of Edward’s back. “Finish him.” He whispered softly, those blue green eyes full of fueled hatred as he looked back to the man whose body was slumping even as he was still trying his best to fight the restraints and strain his voice against the duct tape. From behind, they likely looked like a couple looking over an art piece, or stoking a fire together. Oswald leaned on him so sweetly and his hand rested so tenderly at the base of Ed’s spine-- From behind their position almost looked idyllic. 

But of course, in reality, Ed was ramming a knife into the man’s chest as his blood soaked Ed’s hand and both tormentors stared at his now gaping chest with a sort of shared wonder. How beautiful it was to share. How romantic. Soon Ed’s grunting stabs slowed and he realized the man had lolled forward in a heap of death and he pulled the knife out to look at the blade, drenched in his victim’s blood. As was his hand… He moved to retrieve a cloth from the kitchen, suddenly so concerned with the mess. His heart was pounding. Adrenalin was flooding him, filling him with the now familiar thrill.. The rush he could live off of for a while… Before he could really speak to tell Oswald how grateful he was for all of this, before he even managed to get that towel to clean off his hands, his wrist was grabbed by his beloved-- the hand with the blade being raised towards Oswald’s face. As if examining it-- as if assessing Edward’s prowess in a way. Edward blushed under the scrutiny, only to find his jaw drop open when Oswald flicked out his tongue to trace the line of the blade just so. A little streak of blood flicking drops into his warm, waiting mouth as just the side of the edge was now clean. 

Oh….

_ Oh dear. _

Edward suddenly was throwing the knife down, and grabbing Oswald up in a hard, bruisingly needy kiss. He was perfect. They were perfect. And they belonged to one another. With one another. His hands half tangled in Oswald’s  suit jacket as he became vaguely aware of the blood still smeared on them. Perhaps when he came back to his senses,, he would feel concern over ruining the garment. Not right now though. Oswald gave only a small moan, as he happily welcomed the kiss, and even allowed Ed full reign. No that Ed needed to be allowed anything. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he NEEDED. He was backing Oswald towards the bed, moving to pull off his blood soaked sweater, loosen his tie, and  begin unbuttoning his own shirt as Oswald followed the lead and shrugged out of his jacket, likewise removing his tie and beginning on his shirt. Edward’s kisses were ceaseless through the process. His free hand always kept reaching and groping for Oswald and his lips never left the other man’s for more than a second. His tongue darted in and out of Oswald’s mouth, seeming to search for the blood driven taste he watched the shorter man indulge in. The pair shared a lust for more than just one another, and in this moment, Edward intended to claim ever form of Oswald’s being as his own in one way or another. 

They fell onto the bed with a resounding thud onto Ed’s less than luxurious mattress, and the blood of their victim seemed to have come off in the peeling of layers of clothing they had done in the movement to the bed. Ed was now shirtless, Oswald in just his undershirt, but he had in all his wisdom also removed his trousers before they lay down together, so nothing but his boxers were in the way. Edward was grateful as he found himself too busy kissing to really let himself have the true panic that suddenly wretched over him as he considered just what he wanted to do next. He had never… Well, not that he wasn’t certain that he wanted to. He was! He absolutely was. But just.. How? And well, which of them-- Oswald had never said. Then Edward had never asked. Whenever he imagined it, which was frequent enough, he imagined both scenarios. Equally almost. And when he satisfied his own needs, well he resorted to… both forms of stimulation. He just kept kissing for a few more moments, but his mind was drifting quickly as he felt his arousal bulging his trousers and rubbing against the thin fabric which barely covered Oswald’s own hardness as they lay on their sides, Ed kissing him with  of clumsy desperation which might be expected.

Finally, he felt fingers grip his hair and tug him back just enough so Oswald could smile at him a little breathlessly. 

“I didn’t expect this to happen tonight.” He admitted, panting softly. With that, Ed felt a little more nervous still. Did that mean he didn’t want to? Oh, and Ed had just been so forceful. He never even asked. What if Oswald didn’t want to? How could he have been so selfish and presumptive and-- “But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t very VERY ready for this, Edward.” The criminal added, as though perhaps he could read the fear and uncertainty in his lover’s eyes. That reassurance was all that was needed for Ed to eagerly attempt to reclaim his mouth in another hard, hungry kiss. Only to once again be stopped, this time with a gentle hand on his bare chest. 

Oswald’s bare hand. Right above his heart. Would he feel it thundering away?

“Ed, wait…” He breathed softly and Edward retreated just enough to leave the space between them needed for eye contact. Ed was so expectant, so sincere as he stared into Oswald’s eyes, wanting to know. Needing to know. What did Oswald want? He would open a vein right here by the look of him, Oswald only need ask. “Edward, have you ever…?” Oswald asked softly, trailing of with no need to clarify. They both knew what he meant, and Ed’s expression fell as his eyes looked downcast. It was humiliating of course to admit. Oswald would hardly be the first man to laugh at him for it either, so Ed weakly nodded and internally braced for the scorn that would come. Instead, a hand cupped under his chin and guided Edward Nygma to look up into the far more beautiful than he deserved face of the man he loved without condition. “That’s okay… I… If you’re sure you’re ready, then I would love to be your first.” 

Once again, he was speechless and merely offered a very eager, very desperate kiss to Oswald in anxious agreement that he wasn’t just ready, but that he could never imagine offering this part of him to anyone else. As much as he wanted to claim Oswald, Ed also harbored the very sacred need to be claimed right back. To belong to someone just as he clung to his desire to have this marvelous, wondrous, exquisite person beside him belong to him as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. Fade to black is likely anticlimatic at this point. But I long LONG considered the fact I started this fic with the full intention of it being mature. I don't feel like it would be fair to those who started with the belief they were reading a mature fic to be delivered explicit content this late in the game-- that being said, there is a sex scene for this chapter being uploaded in the near future as part of the many pieces of bonus material for this fic. Check out the Not Everyone Has a Cobblepot series for all that stuff, and subscribe to it if you can. We are nearing an end to this fic, and I am just so SO grateful for all the support I've gotten. There will be a full multi chapter sequel to this entire fic once it is published, and I def encourage all of you to check that out as well if you've been enjoying the story so far. 
> 
> As always, your kudos/subscriptions/comments sustain me. Never stop with them. Please XD 
> 
> Also, my tumblr is racheldadtaylor.tumblr.com so you should follow me if you don't already. And feel free to shoot me an ask or a prompt or anything really. You guys are all wonderful and I am so grateful you've been along for this wild ride of a fic with me.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, we are offered a new perspective of things-- some clarification-- and Ed FINALLY gets something off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we added another chapter before it's finished. I had a feeling I'd need two more chapters. One for a reveal. And one for the aftermath of the confession. (:

Oswald Cobblepot had never been in love before. 

In fact, up until fairly recently, Oswald hadn’t really considered himself capable of romantic love. It was a lovely fairy story. A darling notion of comfort that the masses could cling to in the wake of the tragedy which was their lives. An empty, shallow notion as hollow and childish as Santa Claus and just as real. It was meaningless. And he had simply evolved beyond it. He was a man of means, of intelligence, and to be “in love” was wholly and entirely impossible. He loved his mother of course, and in a way he sometimes wondered if he had loved Fish similarly. She had done so much for him, even as she also degraded him constantly. He was fond of her at least. But he loved his mother. Everyone else was expendable. 

Then there was Ed. 

Before Edward Nygma came fumbling into his life, Oswald had been so certain of his higher evolutionary place. So much so, he used his affections to get what he needed in this town. Arnold Flass had been remarkably stupid and easy to control with sex and drugs and money. The trifecta of the weak, and the three vices which the Penguin happened to have in spades. In a single afternoon spent on his knees, Oswald could easily learn about every sting operation the narcotics squad had planned, find out just who was the weak link in the homicide department, and get guarantees of the necessary legal muscle when moving against Maroni’s men. It was a perfect situation and one which Fish herself had encouraged. She had picked Flass out just for Oswald when she spotted the officer making eyes at the blue eyed petite man. Of course, Oswald was entirely for the arrangement. It meant some power of his own. Control. Insurance. As long as Flass wanted him around, Oswald was safe. Then Flass had to go be a complete moron. Getting caught with his backdoor deals and little side hustle. How AMATURE could he be? Oswald was literal days away from making his move against Fish and so he had to replace him. 

Dougherty was his first choice. Not for any degree of skill, but because he was just talkative enough to be easy to handle. Men like him needed to be listened to. Needed to have some pretense of being respected and admired. Oswald could fake that without any issue and so he became his new paramour. An arrangement which was great in the beginning. The sex was decent, he was almost amusing with that big personality-- when he wasn’t being exhausting with it-- and Oswald actually found him to be quite attractive. Fish was toppled, Oswald given her spot… And everything seemed great. 

Then Tom had gotten violent with Oswald. 

Violent with the Penguin.

And that couldn’t be allowed to stand. Oswald had pointed a gun to his throat that first time and warned if he ever so much as touched the criminal again, his brains would paint the walls. Tom was… Convincing-- and more clever than Oswald would have given him credit for. If Oswald orchestrated his death then it would be easy to trace. And what’s more, if he dared to threaten Tom again, then the man would take the underhanded plots and schemes, which the Penguin had let slip to him in bed at night, post orgasm-- when really Oswald was just being too arrogant for his own good-- and he would go straight to Don Falcone. Oswald would wish for death at that point. He would BEG for it. And so Dougherty had him-- in every way unfortunately. Oswald couldn’t deny him. He had no choice, and for the first time in a very long time he was helpless. His brain was stumbling over ways to try and get back at him when he vanished. No sight. No trace. Then Oswald got that note. That stupid note. Oswald knew Tom was out there still, or worse yet he had been taken by Fish or worse Falcone, who would then know everything about Oswald’s plans. It was all so frustrating, and perhaps it was in this state of genuine worry and near constant paranoia that somehow Edward Nygma managed his way into Oswald’s heart. 

He had found him irritating in the beginning. Irritating and suspicious. No one ever paid that much attention to Oswald without having some ulterior motive. As time went on, his guard fell. Little by little. Centimeter by centimeter. Until finally, here they were. Edward was so soft to touch somehow. A man so sinewy, hardly muscular and yet taut with his own slenderness, and yet as Oswald ran a hand up his chest, he could feel just how exceptionally-- incredibly soft Ed’s skin was. Everything about him seemed that way though. His very soul yielded to Oswald and he was always sweet, always tolerant, always gentle. In the afterglow of what Oswald could only define as a rather modest orgasm-- nothing to write home about in terms of skill or sensation, and yet a moment of climax marked by the sheer intimacy he felt with his partners… Intimacy he had never felt with anyone. Love. Genuine love… In the aftermath, they lay now together with Oswald’s head on his chest and his body shifting with deep breaths of Ed’s scent. Somehow, he always managed to smell a little like peppermint. It was maddening. And adorable. And too much, and not enough all at once. Oswald was simultaneously overwhelmed at the closeness he felt in this moment, and driven mad by the fact he couldn’t get closer. As if he could crawl inside Ed, exist within his very core and even that wouldn’t be enough to satiate the need that had been born inside him. 

He blamed the lilies. 

Months ago. Too many months to count it felt like, Edward had left him a note at the club with a vase of flowers. It had been a sweet gesture. A nice thing to do.. But somehow, it felt-- it was really unnerving. It’s what started this all for Oswald at least. His little  crush on Nygma. The notion of fantasizing about the tall, quite handsome and far too meticulous man. At the time Flass had been so disgustingly threatened he mocked Edward in front of the whole club much to Oswald’s irritation and Ed’s mortification. It had likely been a rejection for the poor man who was still catching his breath as he nuzzled against Oswald’s hair. Oswald still couldn’t understand where he had gotten the idea to get him lilies. He convinced himself it was a lucky guess at the time, and tried to forget the fact no other man had never brought him flowers, let alone managed his favorite or somehow did so on a night when he certainly needed the support most. Not that Edward could have known what was happening with Fish. About Oswald’s plans in motion. About how he had turned snitch days earlier and still couldn’t shake the adrenaline that came with a fear of discovery. Ed couldn’t have known any of this. Just as he couldn’t have known about Oswald’s favorite flower. It was all just a series of coincidences. Oswald felt sure. 

But just the same, they all added up to Oswald being suspicious of Ed’s intentions, and ever so slightly moved by them. He had a weakness for that sort of sentimental notion of romance. One which would time and again seem to be exploited by just how persistent, and sweet, and remarkably attentive Ed could be. It was so hard to trust him, but honestly it was impossible not to. So here they were. 

Here he was. 

In love with Ed Nygma. In his bed, fresh from the most intimate sexual experience of his life, with arms around him that had nothing to their touch but reverence and with a strong desire to give that same feeling back in spades. He wanted to make Ed feel just as loved as he felt-- as Ed was. He wanted to rip the moon from its place in the sky and shove it into Edward’s far too gentle hands and insist-- INSIST he deserved more than that still. 

And somehow, even now, Oswald’s mind rolls around the idea of Dougherty. His vanishing. It’s been haunting him for the weeks since it happened. He panics at the idea that maybe he’s out there, just waiting to come back. Waiting to expose him. The last sex he had was the rough handling of Tom after he left him a little bruised and needed the promise of forgiveness. Without meaning to, he must have tensed in Ed’s arms as memories of that revolting evening came back to him-- Ed noticed. 

“Oswald? What’s wrong?” he asked softly as he moved back to look down at him. “Did I--- Did I do something-- I.. Did I hurt you?” 

Oh that flash of worry that flickered over his face was too much.  Every time he thought he loved Ed too much, something like this happened and he felt himself swell with even more affection. 

“No, Ed. No, of course not. This was… Perfect. You were perfect.” He reassures him and gently uses his fingers to push some stray curls from Ed’s forehead. His tone is soft, adoring as he speaks again. “You’re so sweet…” he looks down and shakes his head. 

Edward blushes and glances to the dead body slumped in the middle of the room. “I think he might beg to differ.” Ed gave a coy smile. 

“He doesn’t matter.” Oswald laughs and moves to sit up, looking at Ed sincerely. “Most people don’t. Just because you’re aware of that fact, it doesn’t mean you’re any less a wonderful person.”

Ed blushed and looked away again. “Would you like anything? T-tea or water maybe?” He asked softly, likely looking for an excuse to step away and catch his breath. Oswald had noticed he ducked out of compliments even as he clearly craved them sometimes. 

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.” Oswald offers as he nods and decides to give Ed this particular out. Just this once. 

When Ed steps away, he pulls on his boxers and undershirt again as the chill in the apartment has seemed to creep up in the wake of their sharing body heat. Oswald himself finds his shirt and pulls it on, along with wiggling on his boxers, and sharing a small breathless laugh with Ed who turns just as the tea is onto boil and makes eye contact with a rapidly shifting Oswald. Equally determined to have on the garment, as he is not to get out of the warmth of the bed to do so. It is admittedly a rather silly sight. One that carries a sense of joy and comfort between them, and reminds both of the rather definite fact that they are hopelessly in love with one another. When Ed brings Oswald the tea, he sits close to him on his side of the bed, and Oswald thanks him as he takes a sip. It’s nice. This oddly domestic little scene. Ed even moves to get one of his flannel pajama shirts from the nearby dresser, offering it to Oswald in addition to what he’s already put on because he can tell he’s still a bit cold. It’s too big, but that somehow makes it all that much sweeter. All of this. It’s just so nice. 

But as Ed always is, he can’t quite let go of his curiosity. 

“You never said what was wrong.” He offers the statement, both like a weak accusation, and also as something far too insecure to be a real question. 

“Oh, just thinking…” Oswald waves his hand and draws another sip of his tea. “The last man I was with, was Dougherty, you know....” He says when he can see the concern and need for answers in Ed’s eyes. Of course, that continuation only makes him frown a little and furrow his brows. The Penguin is quick to clarify. “And of course, this was far, far better than it ever was with him.” Relief as well as a fresh blush flood Ed’s face. “But I can’t help worrying about him being out there… if he ever comes back….” 

Ed shook his head dismissively. “No, you don’t need to worry about him.” 

Oswald gave a half-hearted smile to the comfort he was trying to offer. “No, you don’t know him, Ed. He’s… Dangerous.” An understatement, but really he hardly wanted to air the vast tale of manipulative power struggles on this, the same night he had taken Ed’s virginity. 

“Listen to me.” Ed insisted and and reached out to move Oswald’s tea to the nightstand, so he could draw both his hands up and kiss them. “You do not need to worry about Tom Dougherty.” 

It was sweet. Really it was. One body in the corner did that, though didn’t it? A first victim. It always made you feel invincible. Oswald could still remember his. And then the sex certainly didn’t hurt. Ed was on a high of dopamine and oxytocin. He was likely ready to fight the whole city. It made Oswald smile and roll his eyes affectionately with a soft laugh as he pulled back a hand to reach once more for his tea. Ed stopped him. 

“I mean it, Oswald. It’s been taken care of.” 

Oswald raised a brow as his blue eyes caught Ed with a curious glance. “And just what does that mean?” He shifted away from his tea, curious now. 

Ed drew a deep breath.

“Ummmm.. Some time ago, he and I had an altercation.” he explained. “I asked him to treat you with more respect.” 

“Oh god.” Oswald cringed a little at the idea of just what Ed might have had to deal with as a response. 

“And he said, he would treat you anyway he liked, and he assaulted me.” Oswald was about to say something about how classically Tom such a reaction was, but then Ed added. “So anyhow, long story short, I killed him.” 

After a moment of quiet between them, with Oswald staring at him with slightly wide eyes, he burst into soft laughter. “Very funny, Ed. You had me going for a second. And I suppose that in addition to Tom, you’ve a whole host of bodies before the one tonight. You’re a regular serial killer.” he rolled his eyes teasingly. 

“No, just Tom.” Ed responded simply. 

“Ed, that’s not funny. I have a real problem, here. That man is out there, and---” 

“I’m not being funny. It was outside of the club. On eleventh street, around six pm, he was coming to meet you after I sent him a false invitation that was supposed to be from you. I stabbed him several times. He bled to death and then I disposed of his body afterwards.”

Oswald gaped at him. “Edward, I….”

He got up suddenly and moved to that same dresser where the shirt had been, rummaging in the top drawer for a second before pulling out a small object and coming back to sit in front of Oswald. He held it up, looking almost proud of it. “I never wanted to hurt you, or lie to you… But Oswald, you don’t have to worry about him ever again.” He insisted. 

Oswald’s eyes went wide. He was unsure how even to respond. He was grasping at the words and all that came was simply. 

“Oh my god...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is almost definitely the last one. Which feels so odd given how much time has gone into this fic. I have loved all of it, and am so so grateful for all of you who are reading. I hope the perspective shift is okay. I always wanted to have one chapter told from Oswald's limited side, and I also hope you notice the nod to the beginning of the fic with the first line of the chapter. (: 
> 
> I appreciate all of you who are reading. It means so much to me. I adore you all, and I hope you stay tuned for the next chapter in which this whole story arc will be wrapped up and a small epilogue of things to come will be included. And never fret. These dorks have a sequel planned for when this arc concludes so I hope you aren't sick of them yet. Continue to leave kudos, comment, subscribe, and bookmark pleaseee. It sustains me.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Ed's confession and end of this crazy emotional journey that has been this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've all been really wonderful and I hope you find this ending as satisfying to read as I felt like it was to write.

**** “Oh my god...” 

Oswald stared at Ed with eyes wide, and Ed could feel the whole world around them seem to slow down. As if, he could note each drop of condensation running off Oswald’s tea cup-- as if, should he want to, he’d have been able to hear the every exhale of breath from not just the both of them, but the people outside his apartment on the streets bustling around in what was now somehow this thundering deafening silence. Not that cared to notice any of this. Not that there was anything in this second other than Oswald. He looked so… So shocked. So upset? So concerned and confused and only just a moment ago Ed had been so…. So sure of this.  

When he told Oswald, it wasn’t out of guilt. No, it was pride. It was reassurance. He wanted Oswald to know that long before this glorious, perfect night together, far before they had even kissed, Ed was in love with him. Moreover, Ed was protecting him. Guarding him. Ed had never loved anyone before, and now here he was and he loved Oswald enough to murder Tom Dougherty for hurting him. Because it wasn’t right, Oswald deserved so much better, and Ed wanted him to get that. Wanted to give him better--- He wanted to give him everything and it was so difficult to find the words, so here he was, showing him proof. Cold, hard proof. Evidence of just how wonderful Oswald was in Ed’s eyes, and just what kind of things Ed was capable of. This tonight, this perfect everything they shared was beautiful and special, but it wasn’t the beginning of anything for Ed. He had spent what felt like an eternity worshipping Oswald from afar, and now up close, and there was no reason for Oswald to ever feel fear or worry over his safety. Ed would protect him. 

Ed wanted so much to protect him. He had spent this lifetime being the ineffectual, bookish young man. Lanky and tall without being muscular, just a stretched expanse of taut softness, weakness, femininity. That's what his father had always accused him of. When he would beat Ed, he often said he was just trying to toughen him up. Just trying to make him into a man, but of course he always admitted to the failure of such an act. Ed would never be a man. That's what Tom thought, He had clearly believed Ed some kind of loser. Most of the precinct was pretty clear about that, but of course, it was only in the fact that it was a place which valued the mediocre traits of brute strength over true gifts like intelligence and logic. Just because Ed wasn’t strong, didn’t mean he wasn’t a man. He had proved that to Tom Dougherty when he used a switch blade to paint the street with his blood. 

Now he just…

He just needed to prove it to Oswald. 

So here he was, fresh from losing his virginity after committing his second ever murder-- flecks of blood still on the left corner of his glasses lense and his hair still looking mussed and clearly post coital, revealing to Oswald an object that had the criminal looking stunned and speechless. 

It was Tom’s badge, of course. Ed had kept it for… For reasons, better left unexamined. Much like the dreams of gutting Dougherty like a fish and more recently of carving Jim Gordon into small pieces, they were thoughts that Ed had for a long while labeled intrusive and wrong and they were worrisome. Then now with tonight, after what he and Oswald did, he couldn’t help but think how very not intrusive the thoughts had ever really felt. They never worried him. They never hurt, They never frightened. They were warm and welcoming and full of a hungering positivity that the rest of Ed’s life always seemed to lack. Maybe Oswald was right. 

_ ‘I can see it in your eyes… The things you’re capable of. The things Jim Gordon and the GCPD would try to hold you back from. But we aren’t like them, Edward. We’re better than them, because we know what has to be done and we aren’t afraid to admit it to ourselves.’ _

Ed could hear the words in his ears as he let Oswald take the badge into his hands and turn it over. There was still a little blood dried in the corner. Ed had been meaning to wash it off, but he just never got around to it…

That wasn’t true. Ed didn’t want to wash it off. He liked it being there. He liked that being all that was left of Tom. Some dried blood being all that existed of a man who made him feel less than. Of a man who had hurt the only person in the entire world who meant anything to Ed. Ed liked that he had wiped every bit of Dougherty from existence until all that was left is that little smudge which he kept locked away in a drawer for his eyes alone. No one could mourn him. No one could miss him. His whole life was just a disgusting, little stain. 

Oswald was still so quiet as he just kept turning over the badge, thinking about things. He thought about taking it back. About lying and saying-- God, what could he even say? What could he do to lie his way out of this. He was an awful liar anyway. Maybe he should just bolt. Take off in a sprint. Leave this place and Oswald and all of this, because if after everything he had done, Oswald couldn’t forgive this then--- then what was the point? Of this. Of anything. 

“I--I know you loved him, but--” Ed was about to try a stammered, and what would have likely been a very lengthy and rambling sort of explanation without an end in sight, when Oswald cut him off. Suddenly hands were on either side of his neck, the badge slipping from Oswald’s grip and tumbling onto the mattress between them, as he was being pulled in, pulled against the Penguin. He could feel himself, half wondering if Oswald was going to try to snap his neck, when his still mid syllable lips were captured in a deep, soft kiss. Sweet. Loving. Full of a sort of gratitude which Ed’s other self seemed to soak in as if to say of course. Of course he was grateful. He ought to be. But of course, Ed was far more surprised by it. He had already begun a mental spiral of Oswald being unable to forgive him and yet here they were. 

Ed soon pulled back, gasping softly for breath only to have a flushed and tearful Oswald kissing his face. His cheeks, his eyelids, his nose…Oswald’s lips were soft and his breath was warm and he was just trying to pull Ed in against him as if the emotion of the moment was somehow too much. So much it was impossible to avoid. And then, finally when they parted, Oswald let out a laugh. Soft, broken by his tears, and he just shook his head a little as Ed looked at him with such intense curiosity and confusion. 

“I never loved him.” Oswald managed, rubbing his eyes. “I never loved him, and he was the first person in a very long time to make me feel helpless, and you….. You saved me.” 

If that was meant to clarify, it did little more than fluster Ed. He stared at Oswald with wide eyes and a dark blush on his cheeks. If he didn’t love Tom, then why had he allowed him to harm him? Why had he done any of it? Of course Ed had saved him, but in all his scripting of what could be the outcome of telling Oswald the truth, Ed had never anticipated a situation in which Oswald immediately responded with that fact. Acknowledging the idea right away. No argument. No question. Instead Ed was the one left with about a million questions, all whirring around his mind as he just stared at this beautiful, amazing man whose cheeks still stained with tears and whose eyes still sparkled slight amusement. 

Luckily, Oswald saw this. 

And he explained. 

He explained using Dougherty as he had once used Flass, as an in for the police station. Sex and affection had proven useful tools in such an arrangement and honestly, he admitted to rather enjoying Dougherty for both sometimes. Then, he explained, Tom grew violent, but knew too much about Oswald’s plans to be cut loose. Oswald was trapped. He considered having Dougherty killed but he would obviously be the first suspect, and he couldn’t be sure Tom didn’t have anyone else he had told about their arrangement. Oswald had been entrenched in plotting his take down of Tom, while still putting on the face of a patient and forgiving lover when Ed came into action and got rid of him. While this could have been disastrous, and did lead to an extensive investigation by the GCPD into Oswald’s potential involvement, when all evidence came up short-- the case was dropped and Tom was gone. 

Then he explained how he had been so worried about where Tom was. What he was plotting. How his tears were half of relief because it just felt so good to be able to let go of at least one of his paranoias. And the other half reason was entirely sentimental. Oswald admitted as much and Ed just shook his head, looking away and blushing even now. He had saved Oswald, and still, he hardly felt he had earned such praise from him. 

“No, Ed, listen to me.” He reached out suddenly and grabbed both of his hands. “Before tonight, I… I thought you had potential to be something so good. To be… Someone I could love, and someone who could understand me in a way. Maybe not entirely. Maybe not in a way that comes from being entirely alike, but from being similar enough… I so adored you before now, as this sweet, gentle, remarkably capable man. Brilliant and beautiful. I saw really good things in our future. I thought you would be so… Good for me….” All these compliments being past tense were starting to scare Ed a little, but he scooted closer all the same, leaning in to kiss Oswald suddenly, needily. He required the reassurance that this wasn’t the opening to some rejection and Oswald happily returned the chaste affection with such a sincere sort of smile and a little blush of his own. He hadn’t expected it and his beautiful eyes flickered down for a moment in almost shyness-- it was a feeling Oswald wore well and Ed liked seeing. 

But he wouldn’t be discouraged from his words, and Oswald soon enough recovered. “When I was a little boy, my mother would always sing to me when I was going to bed, and then she would tell me, ‘Oswald, don’t listen to the other children. You are handsome, and clever, and someday you will be a great man.’ She said that every time.” he smiled fondly, staring at Ed with such an intensity, Ed couldn’t seem to look away. “I always thought it was just something she said. Because how could she really know--- I’d never known anyone and seen anything special in them. Not until now. Ed, you’re not just going to be good for me. You’re not just going to be my supportive, loving partner. You’re going to be magnificent. In your own right. What you did to Tom-- the crime itself… The way you carried it off… I don’t just see the potential to be someone who understands me out of love and out of similarity… You and I aren’t similar. We’re the same. What you’re capable of isn’t good, it’s something extraordinary. And I don’t want you to support me. I want us to support each other. Edward… You have such a potential and I can see it. I thought I saw it before, but now… I…” he finally broke eye contact and Ed realized he had been holding his breath only as it seeped from his body with little real relief. No one had spoken to Ed this way before. No one had ever… 

Both parts of him. Both sides. The dark and together half, and light and broken half both sat in awe of a man who understood everything Ed had ever wanted to have understood. And Oswald reached out to gently take Ed’s hand, smiling brightly at him as he met his eyes again. And for the first time in Ed’s entire life, in the wake of that single touch, he felt  _ whole.  _

“I love you, Edward Nygma. And someday, you will be a great man.” he drew Ed’s hand up to his lips, kissing it gently and Ed felt tears of his own falling. Oh dear. When did that start? “And if you allow me, I very much want to be the person who helps you become that.”  Without any real words that could ever be an adequate reply, Ed shifted to just kiss Oswald deeply again. This time it was languid and full of unspoken words. As they lay back down in his bed, in silent revelry of one another, hands and lips roving in tender affection, Ed knew he would never let Oswald go. He couldn’t. Oswald was perfect, and Ed had never been happier in his entire life than in this moment here and now. 

He wanted it to last forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before you read on, please be aware that the next chapter is pure epilogue and will honestly ask a lot more questions than it answers I feel like. It does contain spoilers for the sequel fic to this one, so again, be aware. haha
> 
> Also, I just have to say thank you. To everyone who read this, the different content creators who helped me plot this, Lin who made art, Spacey who made gifs, Riz who gave me support, and Vero who gave me the extensive help in working out a timeline from the mangled mess I had around chapter 10. I am so grateful for the comments and the support, as this was one of my first real attempts at fic writing, and is by far the most extensive piece of content I have ever made. I am proud of it, not necessarily in itself, but in the fact I have been able to write this 40k word love letter to the fandom, to Oswald Cobblepot, and to season 1 dork of the century, Ed Nygma. You guys are all so amazing and your comments as always sustain me, and you bring me joy with every kudos and every subscription/bookmark. I love you all. 
> 
> Now hang onto my kindness, because what comes next is a little rough...


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. Pinkie swear you won't, okay?

Ed gripped close to his own coat, pulling it snuggly around himself as he sat down on the dock, knees against his chest. This was where it happened. Right here by the river. They still couldn’t find the body, but with currents and the 48 hour window between when he was last seen and when they began dredging the site, anything could have happened. Ed felt that hopelessness in his gut as he sat here, looking out over the water. It had once been a peaceful place. Almost pretty. Something about the placid sounds and the sense of isolation it offered from the humdrum of the city. And now here he was, mourning. 

It wasn’t fair. 

He did EVERYTHING right this time. It wasn’t like before when Oswald kept slipping through his fingers. It wasn’t him chickening out. It wasn’t him lacking the confidence or the window of opportunity. He had it all. He did everything the way he was supposed to. He had asked Oswald out. They were together. He had told him about Tom. He had been so honest with him and it was so scary but Ed did it. He did it. He did EVERYTHING RIGHT….. 

And they were just…

They were so happy. Ed had never known happiness like that. It just wasn't FAIR. He felt cheated. Like the universe was playing some cosmic joke at his expense. Like everything that he loved-- order, rules, a sense structure for how things were supposed to be had been uprooted and thrown to the wolves of anarchy. 

Ed closed his eyes tightly. He could still feel the way his fingers brushed over Oswald’s ankle in the aftermath of a particularly raucous sexual encounter. Oswald had bit Ed’s shoulder so deeply it bruised for days thereafter, a fact which left Oswald a little embarrassed, until Ed admitted he rather liked the mark. It made him feel wanted just by being there on him. They were always getting more ardent and comfortable with their encounters. Oswald lay back in this particular instance, head  reclined on the headboard as he wore one of Ed’s flannel pajama shirts and Ed worked on massaging the place on Oswald’s damaged ankle that always seemed to bother him.    
  
“You haven’t been using your cane like you should.” Ed muttered, eyes glancing up at Oswald accusingly. 

“I don’t need a cane. I get along fine without one.” Came the retort. 

“Yes, but you would get along BETTER with one. It’s hard on your leg to spend so much time without aid. Your condition will only worsen if you don’t start being preventative in your measures.” Edward was always chiding like this, and Oswald rarely followed his advice, and thus the conversations were wholly pointless. But Ed enjoyed being allowed to worry over Oswald, and Oswald enjoyed being worried over. So they did have a purpose. Albeit, a less than logical one. They talked about Maroni that night-- about Oswald’s plan. Ed had been working on building his own scheme to really let loose his inner self, but up until then-- his progress had been mostly stagnant. He struggled with the perfect plan, the perfect victim, the perfect crime. So they focused both their energies on Oswald’s moves. On his furthered career. The shootout had been a distinct unplanned for event. Even moreover what happened to him. Ed should have been there. He should have--- but Oswald was so insistent his plan was going fine. He wanted Ed to keep working at the GCPD. It was important he maintain his normalcy so that moving forward, he would be able to help Oswald from within the precinct if needed. Ed shouldn’t have listened. If he had been here…. 

“You couldn’t have saved me.” Oswald was beside him. Well he wasn’t. But Ed’s mind was crueler these days than it ever had been before, and seeing Oswald where he wasn’t had become a staple of his day to day. 

“I could have tried.” he murmured and his eyes were full of tears as he looked up at where the vision stood. Dressed in the suit he had worn that morning. Ed suggested he change ties that morning, and Oswald pointed out that he only had three ties to choose from when he got ready at Ed’s home-- prompting Ed to mention the pair staying at Oswald’s home more often. But as Oswald was about to give some excuse, which always mostly amounted to his sense of privacy and secrecy being rooted in stubbornness, Ed had kissed him and they had parted with soft words about dinner that evening. 

A dinner Oswald would never eat. 

“You couldn’t. There’s nothing you could have done, Ed.” The vision insisted as it sat down beside him, squelching in the harbor water which always covered Oswald when Ed hallucinated him, as if he were freshly dredged and still draped in seaweed. “This isn’t your fault. You know that.” 

Ed nodded, swallowing roughly. Sometimes he imagined Oswald being angry with him. Blaming him. Shrieking about how he had failed to protect him despite promising to do so. Sometimes, Oswald was mean. Other times, he was this way. Soft, comforting-- so much like himself Ed swears he can smell his cologne on the air. Sometimes, Oswald is kind, like now. 

Those times, like this one, hurt worse. 

He’d rather be abused by his own mind, berated in the form of Oswald ranting off about his incompetence. At least then, he felt like it was a release of the tension which otherwise rose inside Ed with no outlet, the sensation of self hate so profound he couldn’t fight it. Because he had failed. He had been made to fail. And he knew who did this. He had found out who was the exact one who pulled the trigger that day on the dock, and he had very specific plans for how they would pay. Perhaps that was the good that came out of this. Ed had figured out just who he was now, what he was. No more stagnance. No more uncertainty. He had a victim, a plan, and a crime. Losing Oswald had filled him with the motivation he needed. 

“He won’t get away with this, Oswald.” Ed  murmured and looked up at the vision which was now gone. Tears filled Ed’s eyes as he looked back out to the water. “I won’t let him…. We won’t let him….”  His jaw set and his tears stopped as a very different sort of person seemed to overcome Ed, and he rubbed the dampness from his cheeks, eyes resolute and fixed as he stared out into the water, not sure if he was still talking to the no longer present imagined Oswald, or simply himself. 

“Jim Gordon is going to pay for this.” He adjusted his glasses. “He will pay, dearly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember! You pinkie swore!! 
> 
> Nah, tho guys. You know I'm good for the answers to all your questions and honestly I really want you all to kind of hate me because it means you care about the dorks. I want you to care about the dorks. Care about them enough to hate me for this. So please give me that sweet hate. In comment form as well. XD
> 
> Keep an eye on the Not Everyone Has a Cobblepot series and please feel free to follow me on tumblr @ Racheldadtaylor.tumblr.com and subscribe to me here on AO3 to make sure you are here for the sequel which will carry answers to all the questions, I know you almost definitely might be having about all the things.


End file.
